


but when we’re dancing i’m alright

by 2ndstartotheright



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: -Ish, Angst, Canon Compliant, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, disclaimer: haven’t watched the movies since i was eight, fwb but make it soft and emo, i heard soonyoung call seokmin seoku once and i haven’t let go of it since, implied (canonical) 96 line bffs, seoksoon soft bois, there’s a lotr reference in there, unbeta’d we die like real warriors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24960574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2ndstartotheright/pseuds/2ndstartotheright
Summary: Seokmin’s world changes everyday, flashing by too fast and full of too many variables; Soonyoung at least has always felt like a constant.
Relationships: Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Seokmin | DK
Comments: 22
Kudos: 143
Collections: Enduring Dawn Round 1





	but when we’re dancing i’m alright

**Author's Note:**

> written for the prompt “inspired by Ribs by Lorde” aka gay pining and existential crisis anthem (at least to me). but this story took on a life of it’s own and got a little bit out of hand.
> 
> **edit: highly recommend listening to fallin’ flower and reading the lyrics because i listened to it religiously while writing this and it perfectly encapsulates everything i wanted to convey with this story.**
> 
> i know it says Canon compliant but this is a work of fiction, so it’s definitely not intended as a character study for anyone. 
> 
> tw// slight mention of an anxiety attack

**_we can talk it so good, we can talk it so divine. we can talk it good,_ ****_how i wish it would be all the time. \- ribs, Lorde_ **

*

Seokmin’s face feels frozen, caked with a layer of foundation and sweat after their performance and with how hard he smiles every time the camera pans to him. 

Clap when the performers are on stage, be aware of all the eyes trained on them from all angles and remember to keep the enthusiasm in check, especially if it’s a girl group because a scandal is the last thing they need; he’s going through the motions they’d been advised of, some lessons having been harder to learn than others but nonetheless carved deep into his system now.

Soon after, the category they’re nominated for is being announced but it’s followed by the familiar, awful lull and anticipation of the crowd while the presenter flips open the intricately styled envelope infuriatingly slowly. The crowd roars when she announces the winner, calling out their name: Seventeen. 

Seokmin gets trapped into fleeting hugs by overheated bodies when the thirteen of them rise to their feet. The long walk to the main stage makes him feel lightheaded in the best way, the novelty of their name being called as the winner having never really worn off even after all this time. When the award passes between each member’s hand and finally finds its way to Seokmin, he presses it to his chest tightly, metal digging into his skin hard enough to ground him.

Afterwards, Seokmin is still feeling the phantom weight of the award in his hand when Junhui suggests that they go celebrate their win by grabbing some dinner. It makes Seokmin’s stomach rumble loudly, reminding him that he’s been going through the day on a light brunch. 

They get seated at the biggest booth the restaurant has to offer but it’s still hot and stuffy like it always is, because a group of thirteen men is a full crowd and then some. Throw in their managers and a few more staff and the whole restaurant is as good as theirs. 

“Kids, get closer,” their manager says, struggling up onto a chair so that all of the members can fit in one frame. 

“Let’s do a love shot pose,” Soonyoung suggests, sloshing more soju into his glass and then into Seokmin’s. 

Seokmin puts a hand over his heart as if scandalised. “Why, Grandma, are you trying to get me drunk?” 

Soonyoung breaks out into a cackle, playing along and slipping into his old woman voice. “I’m just trying to rekindle our romance, sweetheart,” he says, batting his eyelashes at Seokmin. 

Chan gags loudly in the background while everyone else makes noises of equal parts amusement and disgust. 

“There aren’t any cameras around so please stop terrorising us,” Wonwoo groans. 

“Can you two hurry up so we can go back to eating?” Jeonghan says, with a long suffering sigh.

Soonyoung laughs, intertwining his arm with Seokmin’s and raises his glass to his lips. He’s close enough for Seokmin to see the faint peach coloured flush from the soju and the heat from the grill dusted over the gentle slope of Soonyoung’s nose and on the shiny apples of his cheeks. Seokmin’s sober enough to appreciate how endearing it looks. Soonyoung yells out for a toast right in Seokmin’s ear just as the flash goes off. 

It’s chaotic and loud but Seokmin feels so happy amidst it all, he could cry. Although that could just be the adrenaline crashing in his system mixing with the alcohol that’s making him sentimental. 

*****

With the long and tedious line of award shows behind them, their schedules are relaxed somewhat. Seungcheol calls for a meeting in the kitchen with all the members present before they speak to the company about what the next step for them should be.

Once they do voice their thoughts to the company they’re officially granted an ‘unofficial’ period of rest: which translates to keeping a low profile for the next few months until the new tracks are completed and the details regarding the next comeback are finalised.

But prior to that, there are two hectic weeks of constantly driving back and forth to studios where all they do is shoot footage for various things: promotional clips to be used later, cover shoot for a magazine and several episodes for Going Seventeen which will be airing while they prepare for the comeback. 

The morning after all of the schedules are cleared, the members wander around the dorms, looking a little lost now that they don’t have to be rushed out of the apartments by their managers. But by the time it’s mid-morning most of them have gotten over it: most, giddy at the thought of being able to go right back to sleep while others were more eager to take the opportunity to disperse out of the dorms and make use of the time to recharge and socialise outside of the group and the company. 

Everyone except Jihoon is planning to take this as an opportunity to head back home. It’s not unheard of, but it’s been a rare occurrence as of late. Seokmin can see that Soonyoung’s absolutely itching to object to the idea, looking determined enough to drag Jihoon out, whining and kicking if the need arises. 

“You could always finish the work at home,” Soonyoung says, pointedly, over his plate topped with fried eggs and spam. 

Jihoon eyes the plate in disgust, scrunching his nose at how the grease dripping off the food is visible even from the opposite end of the table. 

“And give my mother more reasons to worry when she sees I’ve got the sleep schedule of a bat? No thank you, I’d rather stay back and finish off the rest of the tracks,” Jihoon says. 

“He’s got a point, hyung,” Seokmin points out. 

He shifts uncomfortably when Soonyoung narrows his eyes at him. “Don’t enable his unhealthy life decisions.”

Seokmin rolls his eyes before shovelling a big spool of ramen into his mouth. He hates conflict and confrontation so he usually tries his best to stay quiet when the hyungs argue but the constant bickering going on right now while he is trying to finish his lunch is seriously messing with his appetite.

He can’t exactly take his food into the living room because Joshua is out there stuffing the last of his underwear into a travelling bag two sizes too small to fit everything he wants to, and the last thing Seokmin wants is for more people to get involved. 

“Your mother already knows we haven’t gone to sleep at an acceptable time since we were teenagers, Jihoon. In fact, I distinctly remember our parents banding together to stage an intervention at some point.” 

“Yeah, well, we know how that worked out,” Jihoon mutters, crossing his arms across his chest. 

“I’m just saying, you don’t need to be here all alone,” Soonyoung tells him. 

“And if I don’t, then who will?” Jihoon leans forward. His voice is still soft as a purr, but there’s an edge seeping into it which makes Seokmin feel uneasy. 

“All of us, if you actually bothered to ask.” Soonyoung spits.

Seokmin’s choice of seating is truly unfortunate, caught between Jihoon and Soonyoung and forced to glance back and forth as the two bicker.

Chan pops his head around the door at the sign of commotion, and immediately backtracks when he spots the stare off currently going on. He spares Seokmin a sympathetic shake of his head before he’s gone. 

“But I don’t want them to, Soonyoung. Simple as that. If I want help, trust me, I know how to ask for it.” The sound of Jihoon’s chair being pushed back is exceptionally loud as Seokmin holds his breath. 

“Besides, real bold of you to talk about unhealthy life decisions when you’re practically drinking grease,” Jihoon mutters on his way out.

Soonyoung's eyes flash with both anger and hurt before he tears into the fried eggs like they’ve personally insulted him. 

“Hyung, just let it go,” Seokmin says, gently. “He’s going to be working on those tracks even if he goes back home, so it makes sense that he prefers to be here until everything’s done. He knows what he’s doing, you know that.” 

“I know he does, but does he always have to be so goddamn stubborn?” 

“Do you?” 

Soonyoung’s lips curl into a scowl, bordering on a pout. Seokmin sighs, leaning over, the distance between them being quite a reach, but manages to pat Soonyoung’s hand closest to him in what he hopes is a comforting gesture.

Soonyoung tends to care about the people around him with a fierceness that Seokmin often found hard to comprehend at times: wearing his heart on his sleeve so unashamedly, sometimes Seokmin even envies him for it. 

But the times Seokmin has seen it backfire in Soonyoung’s face, much like today, is numerous; because tiredness is a constant state they exist in, and even after all the years they’ve spent together, even though they knew each other as thoroughly as they knew the patterns on their own palms, there will always be boundaries to discover and learn anew. The downside to caring too much is sometimes they can be too easily forgotten. 

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and while Soonyoung’s far from being the eight year old his second cousin is, Seokmin’s willing to try out his Foolproof Guide to Curing a Classic Case of Pouting on Soonyoung, which entails a short trip to the nearest convenience store and loading up on snacks.

If it means there’s a chance it will get Soonyoung to stop moping around for the rest of the day, why not? 

It works more or less. Soonyoung grudgingly lets Seokmin take his hand and they walk down the block and around the corner. It’s cold enough that no one spares them a second glance at how their coat collars are pulled up and Soonyoung keeps adjusting the beanie lower on his head. Seokmin touches the bridge of his nose, pinching the mask tighter around the slope of it so it will stop sliding down his face. 

Of course they end up buying a bag full of junk food, one item for each member. Soonyoung argues with him about paying for it until it’s too embarrassing to keep doing so in front of the old man behind the cash register, regarding the scene in front of him with an expression very similar to what one would wear on their face when inspecting something stuck to the bottom of their shoe. In the end Seokmin has no choice but to step down, pocketing his wallet as a sign of defeat and collect the bag off the counter while Soonyoung pays for it. 

For as commonplace and mundane as it is, Seokmin doesn’t expect to be hit with a sense of nostalgia which flashes through his mind in faded colour once they step outside.

The only thing that stops him from sitting down on the steps out front and ripping a packet of chips right then and there, like how the two of them used to so often in the past: for the fear of their staff catching them cheating on their diet if they take it back home or just because they were two starving, impatient teenagers with the sun beating down on them too harshly, is the fact that now a simple low fitting cap and a beanie can only shield them from prying eyes for so long. 

Soonyoung disappears into Jihoon’s studio once they get back and doesn’t return until it’s much later. But he brings Jihoon back with him, looking pleasantly flushed from the cold outside and only a little awkward as they joke around with each other over dinner. 

*****

In hindsight, Seokmin can’t say he’s entirely surprised when Soonyoung announces that he’s going to stay behind and keep Jihoon company. 

They’re in Seokmin’s room. Soonyoung is sitting on the floor, watching Seokmin rummage through his mess of a wardrobe to pick out a few clothing items. He’s packing light, leaving most of it at the dorm and only taking a few casual clothes: a couple of his old, faded t-shirts and sweatpants.

Seokmin’s missed his mother, her cooking and his own bed too much after eight months of constant hustle and jet lag so he’s giddy with excitement to be going back home, but he’s a little concerned about leaving behind Soonyoung and Jihoon alone. Although he doubts he has any reason to, not when Seungcheol frequents his dorm even during their breaks anyway. 

“I have to say, I’m surprised you’re not the first one running out of the dorm,” Seokmin says, rolling up a few of his socks. 

The new house Soonyoung’s parents had purchased is all he’s been talking about for months now.

“My parents haven’t set up most of the rooms properly anyway so I might as well hang around here until they do.” Soonyoung dismisses it with a small wave of his hand, not sounding entirely too convincing.

“Jihoonie hyung isn’t going to let you,” Seokmin says, as a matter of factly. 

“I’d like to see him try and stop me,” Soonyoung scoffs. 

Soonyoung and Jihoon together are an odd combination: an unexpected duo, who in reality shouldn’t work as well together as they do. The downside to that is, Soonyoung’s stubbornness matches up to Jihoon’s own all too well. 

*****

Seokmin jolts awake when his phone vibrates from somewhere underneath him. He scrambles around, kicking away the soft blanket on top of him until he locates his phone trapped underneath his ass and half wedged between the couch cushions. 

The rest of the house is eerily quiet, shrouded in darkness with only the lights from the TV flickering to an offbeat rhythm to illuminate the house and cast shadows on his face.

Falling asleep on the couch has become a habit of his as of lately: one that makes his mother nag at him in the morning but the silence of his house once everyone falls asleep simply rings too loud in his ears compared to the dorm where it was always creaking, hissing and the members blasted the tv a little too loud so for now the white noise of late night television will have to be a good enough substitute. 

Seokmin swipes the notification and it opens up to his and Mingyu’s chatroom. It’s full of a multitude of pictures with no context or preamble. Mingyu ends his spam by sending one last dancing Ryan bear emoji. 

Seokmin sits up straighter, swiping through the pictures. Most of them are of Mingyu, Minghao and Wonwoo, posing near street signs and dining at restaurants Seokmin doesn’t recognise. The rest of them are selfies with their faces squished together, as if they had fought to stay within the frame as they jostled each other around, which had probably been the case. 

Even though he feels a fond smile tugging at his lips as he swipes through the photos once more, it’s bittersweet, tinged slightly green with something akin to envy, but not quite. They had wanted him to come with them initially, pestering him over texts and then whining about it over the phone so it’s not like he can blame them for purposefully excluding him. He tries his best to ignore the way hurt is traitorously flaring up and starting to sting within him. 

His thumbs hover over the screen, unsure of what else to say without it coming off as him whining, or sounding bitter and then he decides to just send a slightly longer message, giving Mingyu a run down of his time at home. 

There’s not much to tell; his mother had smothered him with love the first few days and then when he started to constantly hover in the kitchen trying to help her cook, she had shooed him out. So all he had really done was laze around some more, catch up on a few netflix shows and text back and forth with a few of his highschool friends. 

But he had also composed several tracks, beating out a few melodies out of the new strings on his guitar, navigating through chords that still felt foreign to him. Jihoon had wanted freshness, sounds of new love, but Seokmin can’t remember the last time he’d let himself indulge in that.

Love exists everywhere around him: the love he feels for his family, friends and fans, so initially he thought it was all the same, but whenever he had aimed for pop, sugary sweet, bubblegum love, every single melody came out strained. But Jihoon as always had accepted them enthusiastically, giving him feedback and assuring Seokmin that he would take care of the rest. 

So while it hasn’t been going exactly according to plan, it’s more or less everything he had hoped for: a largely uneventful and relaxing time. And yet, after a few weeks he’s starting to feel antsy, desperately wanting to do something: to be in the studio, practice or shoot some variety show. For the first time in a long time he truly has no obligations, nothing tying him down, and it’s fucking him up.

They’ve had an amazing year and with the sheer magnitude of its success looming over him, Seokmin feels as though they need to follow it up with something even more mind blowing; make sure the next album has an earth shattering impact, so that the world has no choice but to see them for who they really are. 

But with each day that passes with no inkling as to when they can finally start working on the comeback again, complacency sits heavier on his shoulders. The onset of the dull ache that throbs at his core: this yearning for something he has yet to lose is unexpected and unsettling to say the least. But why his well deserved holiday feels so empty and downright miserable isn’t exactly something he’s eager to unpack any time soon.

Usually he tries his best not to think too much about it, instead, focusing on easing himself back into a comfortable routine but at the end of the day, trying not to think of something still counts as thinking. 

Most nights were easier to deal with than others but tonight he feels the soft tell tale tingles of anxiety like pin pricks on the tips of his fingers; the feeling growing stronger and stronger as the night wears on. 

The cotton of his pyjamas rub against his skin that feels way too sensitive: like a raw and exposed nerve. Sleep is slowly draining out of his system, brain switching gears and going into overdrive, refusing to allow him an escape until he starts to wonder if it’s possible to drown from the inside out. 

*****

Deciding to take a twenty minute walk in single digit temperature was clearly a bad judgment call on Seokmin’s part. But the numbing air had been a welcome distraction and the blood buzzing underneath his skin had dissipated, if only a little. 

Soonyoung picks up on the third ring. What he answers with is unintelligible, words slurred and voice rougned with sleep. 

“Hello to you too,” Seokmin says. 

Seokmin is well aware of how late it is. He feels the weight of it in his bones but it’s still early by their standards. He can hear the subdued noise of a movie through the speakers and the shuffle of clothing as Soonyoung shifts. 

“Hold on, let me just—” The tinny voices in the background finally stop. “I fell asleep while the movie was running, again,” Soonyoung says. He entertains a beat of silence between them. “What’s up?” he asks. 

Seokmin’s not sure of what to tell him. He can tell him the truth: _I think I was quite possibly having a mild anxiety attack so I walked out of my house at 3 am in my embarrassing, matching pyjamas and ended up here. Hyung, please open the door._

But he figures he can give Soonyoung enough reasons to worry _after_ he sees Seokmin, still flushed from the cold. 

“Hyung, could you open the door? I forgot my keys,” Seokmin says instead. 

Seokmin can hear the sharp inhale of breath Soonyoung takes and a muffled what the fuck before the line goes dead. 

Soonyoung throws open the door with enough force to startle Seokmin up from the crouch he had fallen into. He offers a weak smile in return to the wide eyed stare Soonyoung is giving him. 

“What the hell? Soonyoung asks, sounding rightfully alarmed. “What’re you doing here?” he demands, popping his head outside and scanning left and right in quick succession. “Don’t tell me you walked all the way here. Alone and in your… pyjamas.” His voice falls flat when he doesn’t find a manager hovering outside. 

“Exactly, and I’m freezing! Aren’t you at least going to invite me inside, hyung?” Seokmin lets out a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

Soonyoung scowls, opening the door wider and stepping aside, allowing Seokmin to step into the warmth of their hallway. The living room is empty. All of the lights are turned off, save for the one that illuminates the hallway. It’s eerily quiet and full of shadows. He slips off his coat and throws it down on the couch. 

Seokmin searches for signs of Jihoon but it looks like it’s just him and Soonyoung for now. He turns to Soonyoung, a question posed at the tip of his tongue. 

Soonyoung beats him to it. “He’s at the studio. Been sleeping most of the day though so that’s why I haven’t dragged him back home yet.” 

Seokmin nods. He looks down at his feet, wiggling his toes inside his worn out shoes he had pulled on mindlessly before leaving the house. Soonyoung in turn watches him, mouth pursed and his eyes narrowed to slits. Finally he lets out a heavy sigh, seeming to realise that Seokmin is in no hurry to explain his untimely visit. 

“You hungry?” Soonyoung asks, walking past Seokmin and towards the kitchen without waiting for an answer. 

The granite of the kitchen’s countertop is cold and it seeps through the thin material of Seokmin’s pants, mildly numbing the backs of his thighs. The balls of his feet knock the lower cabinet doors softly with each swing of his legs, breaking the silence with a steady beat. 

Soonyoung drops two cubes of ramen into the boiling water before he speaks. 

“So, are you going to tell me why you walked all the way here to wake me up and give me a heart attack?”

“I _live_ here,” Seokmin says, blinking at Soonyoung innocently. 

Soonyoung in return gives him one of his rare, stern looks so Seokmin sighs, knowing he can’t prolong this any longer. “No particular reason.” He shrugs. “Just missed you, I guess.” 

He’s a horrible liar but this is both a transparent lie and one half of the truth. Soonyoung’s eyebrows disappear into his fringe. The hair that had initially been blond has faded to a bleached-bone gray colour and the ends of it need a trim, Seokmin notes.

“I missed you too and as flattered as I am to hear that I’m your favourite hyung, you could’ve just called me,” Soonyoung says, his tone more gentle and his eyes equally mellow. 

“I meant that I missed the members— in general, don’t flatter yourself,” Seokmin scoffs. “Came here for Jihoon hyung, really, not for you.” 

“Nah, Seoku, you’re in denial. Why won’t you just admit that without me your life is boring and uneventful and awful? Because hyung’s the best, right?” Soonyoung teases. 

“Right,” Seokmin snorts.

“But couldn’t this have waited till morning though? What if someone saw you?” Both concern and sternness is laced through Soonyoung’s expression and his words. “Your hair is making you look crazy right now, you’re in your pyjamas looking like you were sleepwalking all the way here and not even with a goddamn mask on! If the manager hyungs or Seungcheol hyung gets to know about this, they’ll kill you,” he says, voice slipping into a tone that’s not quite authoritative, but one Seokmin has come to associate with the term: hyung.

“But you won’t tell them, right?” Seokmin asks, letting out a small, nervous laugh. 

Soonyoung scoffs, sounding offended that Seokmin had even for a second entertained such an idea. “If someone saw you and took some pictures, I won’t have to.” 

Seokmin digs into the steaming noodles Soonyoung offers him while still perched up on the counter. They’re a bit too mushy for his liking but it’s still good because Seokmin doesn’t believe that bad ramen exists in the world. Soonyoung serves himself a small serving of noodles and settles back against one of the chairs across from Seokmin and fixes him with a weighted stare. 

“You’re always whining about missing your mom,” Soonyoung says. “Thought you’d be more excited to stay at home.”

“So did I,” Seokmin says, quietly. 

“But?” Soonyoung presses, impatient for Seokmin to go on. 

It’s hard for him to string together the words to make Soonyoung understand because in all honesty, Seokmin hadn’t even thought about what he was doing until he was out of the house. It had been a moment of pure impulse. 

“You ever have those dreams where something is chasing you? You can’t see it, but you just know that you can’t let it catch up to you but no matter how hard you try to run, you still end up in the same place?” 

Soonyoung gives him a look of confusion. “Not exactly sure I’m following but go on.” 

“Well, that was what it felt like to be at home. I’ve been thinking about doing absolutely nothing while we were promoting but now that I’ve actually got nothing to do… It’s starting to drive me a bit crazy,” Seokmin admits, forcing the words past the lump in his throat. “And I’ve been wondering if we made the right choice in taking a break right now, when we’ve been doing so good. Last year was amazing so shouldn’t we try harder to release something while the excitement is still alive?” 

Seokmin’s voice catches traitorously in his throat. Voicing out his concerns means they crystalise and become tangible, getting stuck to the back of Seokmin’s teeth and leaving behind a bitter aftertaste. “I wish it was easier to let myself go, but it isn’t and I’m sick of feeling guilty all the time just for taking a break.” 

Soonyoung frowns, eyebrows drawing together as he mulls it over. Seokmin can see that he’s trying to pick his words carefully before he speaks. “I know you want to be back out there on the stage, trust me, I get it. But how good is anything we create going to be if we’re all just burnt out? We can’t afford to be selfish because at the end of the day, it’s the music that suffers.” 

He’s right and Seokmin knows it. They had gathered around this very kitchen and discussed it at length, Seungcheol searching the faces of everyone present to see whether they agreed. 

So the rational part of his brain knows, what and who they are is bigger than just himself or any one individual. And everything they’ve built up for so long isn’t going to crumble to dust and slip through their fingers in a few weeks. But the irrational part of his brain blurs the line of good reason, and is fucking terrified of the future and the uncertainty it holds. 

“Personally, Seoku, I’ve been running on fumes recently,” Soonyoung admits, voice barely rising above a whisper. “You have to admit, it’s been exhausting. And frankly, my brain is going to need some time to recover if you guys want some fresh choreography out of me.”

Seokmin chews his noodles slowly, turning the words over in his head. He thinks about Soonyoung, who’s loud and assertive but never prideful or arrogant as he took them through the foreign motions of a new choreography. Soonyoung, who was once nowhere to be seen around the dorm because he took it upon himself to perfect the title track choreography all by himself. Soonyoung, who lives, feeds and sustains himself on the echoes of energy bouncing back and forth between himself and a full arena. 

And then there's Soonyoung who stands in front of him after having made ramen after he showed up at his door looking like a crazy person at 3am.

It’s enough for Seokmin to feel guilt, colouring itself in with ugly shades of bitter yellow. He knows that Soonyoung craves the stage, the thrill of a crowd more than he can ever begin to imagine but Soonyoung knows his limits in the way Seokmin has never been able to assess himself. And perhaps he’s a little envious of that too. 

Seokmin takes in the fading indents of the pillow criss crossing Soonyoung’s face, the absence of purpling shadows under his eyes and how all Seokmin sees in the slouch of Soonyoung’s body is sleepiness. 

“I’m sorry, hyung. I know things have been hard for you too,” Seokmin says. “You’re looking healthier though.” 

“I’ve only been eating, sleeping and going back and forth to the studio with Jihoon,” Soonyoung whines, prodding at his own cheeks. “I’ve gained so much weight.” 

“It looks good on you,” Seokmin says. 

Setting the near empty bowl of food next to him, he slips off the countertop and closes the distance between them. Soonyoung watches him with expectant eyes and indulges Seokmin for a few seconds when he squishes his cheeks in his hands.

“Cute,” Seokmin says. 

“Shut up,” Soonyoung mumbles, sounding just a little embarrassed, swatting away Seokmin’s hands. “You wanna watch half of a harry potter movie?” 

“Depends,” Seokmin hums. “Which one is it?”

*****

There’s a crick forming in Seokmin’s neck; head pressed up against the headboard, his neck is bent at an odd angle. He feels the ache of it through the slowly lifting veil of sleep but he tries to cling to the last few threads of sleep despite it. In the end he gives up, sitting up and squinting at the faint sunlight filtering in through Soonyoung’s thin white drapes that make his sleep sore eyeballs ache. 

His reflection stares back at him from the dark laptop screen, now discarded at the edge of the bed; his hair is standing up wildly like he had eaten electricity during the night. 

Soonyoung had slid down the bed at some point in the night and he’s clutching one of the smaller pillows in a loose grip, face half hidden in it. 

“Soonyoung I’ve told you to stop leaving the damn dishes in the sink. We’ll get cockroaches again, you—.” Jihoon cuts himself short when he walks into Soonyoung’s room. 

Seokmin laughs when all Jihoon does is blink hard a few times like he expects Seokmin to be a trick of the light. 

“When did you get here?” Jihoon asks. 

“Last night,” Seokmin whispers, careful not to wake Soonyoung when he slides off the bed. Soonyoung only rolls over and mumbles something unintelligible into his pillow. 

Jihoon rolls his eyes at him, before addressing Seokmin with a jerk of his head towards the kitchen. “I made coffee.” 

Jihoon sits facing Seokmin, regarding him with sunken eyes, letting out a small yawn. He looks like he hadn’t gone to sleep at all last night, still clad in a crumpled pale yellow hoodie and track pants. 

“Your mother got sick of you already? Or was it your sister who locked you out of the house because you wouldn’t stop singing?” Jihoon asks. 

“As realistic as the latter scenario is, sadly, no,” Seokmin says. 

“Then what? You just missed home sweet home?” Jihoon asks, casting an amused glance around the apartment. 

The lack of the sheer number of bodies moving around in the living room, sipping coffee or spooning oatmeal into hungry mouths is odd and Seokmin knows Jihoon isn’t as immune to it as he likes to pretend. 

Seokmin doesn’t particularly feel like explaining himself again. Last night, that had been different. There’s something about the hours in the A.M. that makes confessions feel less permanent; as if when the sun comes up, the words he spoke will cease to exist. 

“Something like that,” Seokmin says, smiling into his mug of coffee. 

Jihoon hums and doesn’t press him any further. They nurse the comfortable silence between them for a few minutes until it’s shattered by the vibration of Jihoon’s phone, dancing on the wooden table with the force of it until Jihoon picks it up and answers the call. 

Jihoon listens to whoever is on the other end for a few seconds and then his eyes are flickering to Seokmin. He has an inkling of what it might be about, a small sense of unease making him squirm in his seat and is confirmed when Jihoon puts the call on speaker and he hears Seungcheol’s voice. Seokmin flinches at the urgency in Seungcheol’s tone.

“Hey, hyung,” Seokmin says, leaning closer to the phone. 

“Seokmin? Oh thank god you’re not dead,” Seunghcheol exclaims, his voice growing louder with relief. “Why the fuck haven’t you been answering your phone?” 

That’s a good question. A better one would be: where is his phone? He doesn’t quite remember shoving it into his jacket last night so it’s probably discarded somewhere in his room… back at his own house. 

“Your mother said you vanished last night and that she hasn’t been able to get in touch with you so she ended up calling me,” Seungcheol says. “Where are you right now?” 

Seokmin feels a little bad about the fact that he’s about to throw Jihoon under the bus. He’s mentally calculating the distance between his room and the time it will take him to run in there and slam the door versus Jihoon reaching over and slapping him up the head; the odds aren’t in his favour, but he doesn’t really have much of a choice. 

“I’m at the apartment. You see, Jihoon hyung wanted me to come by the studio last night to record a demo and we got carried away. I left my phone in the studio,” Seokmin says. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to call home and let them know now,” he adds before Seungcheol has a chance to call Seokmin out on his bullshit and demand why Jihoon hadn’t just recorded it on his own. 

Jihoon gives him a nasty look over his coffee but he’s nice enough to wait until Seungcheol hangs up to call Seokmin an asshole. Dodging Seokmin’s attempt at a hug after Jihoon had agreed to let him use his phone to call home, he leaves Seokmin alone with a throwaway comment about taking a shower. 

Soonyoung stumbles out of his room a few hours later, hair ruffled up in all directions and his face puffy with sleep just as Seokmin is done rinsing the two bowls from last night. And because Seokmin’s a great friend, he doesn’t even complain when Soonyoung steals the last mug of coffee. 

*****

The three of them are mindlessly watching mid-day re-runs of cartoons and The We Bare Bears are in the middle of going on a road trip when Soonyoung jumps off the couch like a bullet and has one foot up on the coffee table with his hands on his hips. 

“You know what you need?” Soonyoung asks, pointing at Seokmin. “A proper vacation. I’m not talking about sleeping on the couch all day but the real deal. The whole tourist-y shit. Let’s run away. Just vanish and no one will be able to find us!” 

It’s hard for Seokmin to decipher how serious Soonyoung is through the laughter wracking his body; it's hard to concentrate on much when it finally feels like the hollowness that had made its home in him last night is closing in on itself, already halfway close to disappearing. 

“And then Pledis will hunt you down and drag you back home,” Jihoon deadpans.

“Never. They won’t catch us alive. Think about it, the thrill of being on the run,” Soonyoung says. 

“Until someone uploads a picture of us on Twitter or Instagram,” Seokmin adds. 

“Why aren’t you backing me up on this?” Soonyoung glares at Seokmin, feigning hurt. “Weren’t you the one crying last night about wanting to ‘let yourself go,” Soonyoung accuses, drawing air quotes around the latter part of the sentence. 

“I wasn’t crying,” Seokmin mumbles. 

Jihoon looks at the both of them curiously, eyes shifting between them, but he doesn’t comment on how Seokmin face is flushed. 

Thankfully Soonyoung lets it go, falling back down on the couch. “You two are no fun. Where’s your imagination? Where’s your sense of adventure? We could fly out to LA tomorrow, pay a surprise visit to Joshua hyung. Or maybe Europe. Going to jail might be worth it if it means we get a cool selfie with the Eiffel tower.” 

Jihoon hums, eyes fixed on the TV again, only barely entertaining Soonyoung’s theatrics even though the corners of his lips twitch, threatening to break out into a smile.

“Count me out, but if you’re going to go, might as well pick someplace more realistic. Like say, Jeju for instance. Didn’t Hansol visit with a few of his friends recently? You two can probably manage to catch a flight tomorrow morning if you tried,” Jihoon suggests. 

It sounds appealing, the thought of a getaway. And maybe it’s what Seokmin needs; what they all need, even though Jihoon assures them that what would make him feel much better is when he can finalise work on the rest of the tracks as soon as he can. 

Soonyoung still pesters him the entire day, trying to persuade him into accompanying them but Jihoon adamantly refuses. He makes one final attempt at placating Soonyoung with the idea that their title track could be ready any day now and that must work because Soonyoung let’s it go begrudgingly. 

The company has to be notified of course, and it’s not exactly running away when they have to give their managers a basic rundown of their plan but it still counts for something. 

The first time they try to book the tickets Soonyoung locks them out of their account and the second time he almost books a flight to Hong Kong so in the end, Seokmin has to gently persuade him to leave that task up to one of their managers. 

*****

Seokmin peers out the window, watching luggage being moved back and forth across the tarmac below them. 

The ground is painted in soft gold by the morning sun, still mellow around the edges before noon hits and the rays of sunlight crystallize into sharp points. 

Soonyoung fidgets next to him, mouth set in his usual, unintentional pout. He keeps pulling his sweater sleeves down to cover his hands and then pushing them back up to his elbows. In the end he decides to let them hang past his fingers, clasping his hands tightly in his lap. 

For someone whose job entailed touring the world, Soonyoung unfortunately has never quite gotten accustomed to flying. The very first time they had boarded a flight Soonyoung had gripped Seokmin’s hand so tight his fingertips had gone bloodless and numb. 

Over time he has only gotten better at hiding it, although the signs are all easy to spot if you know what to look for. 

Soonyoung flashes him a grateful smile when Seokmin reaches over, covering both of Soonyoung’s hands with his own. 

This time when Soonyoung threads his fingers through Seokmin’s, it isn’t painful, only gentle pressure where they fit together perfectly. 

*****

Contrary to popular belief, and countless exaggerated accounts on popular travel blogs, there’s actually nothing particularly mysterious or unexplored about the island. There are traces of when it might have been, decades ago, but since then it has been geared towards tourism and amidst the quaintness and the charm it boasts, it shows. 

It has been a few years since Seokmin had last visited and he had forgotten how the traffic in Jeju moves at its own pace, seemingly unaffected by the happenings of the world and the roads are a lot wider than he remembers. 

The cottage they’ve rented is small: situated further down South and away from Jeju city and owned by a sweet, elderly couple who lives right next door. 

But it's a cozy little place, the main doors opening up to a wide open space with the living room on one side, complete with rustic wooden furniture that matches the wooden floor and a kitchen on the other end. 

It had started to snow with the arrival of nightfall but it’s light enough to just cover the window panes in a thin sheet of snow and send a slight chill through the house. They struggle to light the fireplace, inexperienced and with unsure hands. Right when it seems like a lost cause, the fire blooms to life. 

The crackling flames behind the iron grill casts warm shadows through the living room, drawing them in closer with it’s toasting warmth. With only the orange glow to illuminate them, they eat their dinner sitting down on the plush carpet, the take-out containers from a nearby restaurant spread out on the low coffee table. 

Seokmin groans when he digs into the barbecued black bean pork: a staple according to Seungkwan and rightfully so. It bursts in his mouth sweetly, greasy fat lining the thick cuts of meat. 

“This reminds me why it might be a good idea to invest in some real estate here,” Soonyoung says, after swallowing a bite of food.

“So that’s the retirement plan then, no, tall building in the city with the shiny glass windows. You’re willing to trade all of that in for the food? ” Seokmin asks, going back in for a second serving. Honestly, he can’t blame Soonyoung. He would too, if he is ever given the choice. 

“Why not?” Soonyoung shrugs. “The local kids would tell stories about me, wondering why I’m really here, who I was in a past life. Would be cool to become an urban legend.” 

“And it’ll all come crumbling down with a simple Google search but I’ll make sure to send you a postcard every now then anyway,” Seokmin says. “Texting’s out of the question of course because you’ll be old with bad eyesight by then.” 

“You’re only a year younger than me.” Soonyoung pouts, kicking Seokmin in the shin lightly.

“Which practically makes you a hag,” Seokmin gasps. He manages to dodge the next kick aimed at him fairly well. “I guess this leaves me no choice but to come live with you and take care of you in your old age.”

Soonyoung rolls his eyes but laughs like he’s pleased with the idea, probably delighted at the thought of having Seokmin at his beck and call. 

*****

Maybe getting on a plane and flying a few hundred miles to avoid his minor existential crisis had been overkill. Jeonghan says as much when he eventually calls Seokmin.

The world still awaits them, and it isn’t easy to swallow down the doubts which creep into his head in his most isolated and quietest moments but for now he’s sheltered from their full force by the frigid white waves that crash against the rocks and the low stone wall that runs around the house. 

Soonyoung drags him out each morning with a new agenda in mind: walking around the neighbourhood, visiting several cafes, late night walks at the beach, anything to keep them occupied, and they always end up returning more tired than the day before.

*****

Dawn breaks in Jeju the earliest over Seongsang Ilchulbong, the sun first lighting up the ocean, before catching on the mountain peak, spilling over and bringing the island to life. 

In theory, witnessing it with his own eyes had sounded wonderful. The photos he had seen, the ones capturing the golden sunrise and the trail leading to the peak always made it look magical. 

But in reality, Soonyoung had woken him up while the sky was diffused with the glimmer of sunlight still trapped within the stratosphere, ripping the thick blanket off of Seokmin cruelly and jumping on him to smother him in a cuddle to stop him from falling back asleep since they needed to be at the hiking trail at least an hour before sunrise. 

The sky is still overcast when they arrive; it’s sunless and dull but chinks of light have finally started to seep in through the clouds. The snow from last night has melted, making the steep steps slippery and making their climb slightly challenging. 

After twenty full minutes of climbing Seokmin finally has to stop and take a break, bending over and gripping the cold railing for support. He feels a little lightheaded, the heavy morning air making every deep breath a struggle. Soonyoung thumps him on the back and keeps on walking with determined strides.

He’s a little embarrassed when the old lady he had met at the entrance also passes him by with a wave. And it’s not that he’s competing with this elderly woman who is probably old enough be someone’s grandmother but his sense of  
pride spurs him on and he resumes walking again, this time quickening his steps until he catches up to Soonyoung. 

Seokmin — 1, Nice Old Lady — 0. 

While the hours spent in the practice room were hard, torturous even at times, hiking is another kind of hell and why Soonyoung enjoys it so much, Seokmin will never understand. 

Although he thinks he gets it, once they reach the top and he can see how the sky opens up in front of them, stretched tight and spanning endlessly until it kisses the horizon. 

The Sunrise Peak lives up to its name: the sun rises slowly, making its way up a blushed sky that starts to bleed florid orange. The rays slanting on to them paints everything in a shade of golden, bouncing off of Soonyoung’s eyes when he turns to Seokmin, cheeks rising high from how hard he’s smiling. 

It fills Seokmin up with warmth like a smaller sun had bloomed within himself and it makes the world feel off kilter: like nothing else makes sense or matters anymore except for the fact that he’s here with one of his best friends, where the world looks endless and theirs for the taking and the future seems insignificant in the face of it all. 

As Soonyoung screams out their name: Seventeen, throwing it out like he’s tossing a coin and a wish into the sea below them, all Seokmin can think about is how if there is ever a competition to outshine the sun, Soonyoung will win. 

*****

Their pictures pop up online the next day, grainy and taken from odd angles. A few of them have captured them on their morning hike and several others are blurry shots of them in a busy street, teeming with nightlife, the duo caught amidst the crowd. Seokmin recognises the glowing neon sign at the edge of it as belonging to the restaurant they had dined at last night: a well known establishment locally that they had only visited a few times before with the entire group.

Seokmin scrolls through his timeline, watching them spread like wildfire and feeling helpless at not being able to do anything about it. 

“Manager hyung just texted me,” Soonyoung informs, turning over onto his stomach on the bed. 

“Yeah, me too” Seokmin says, twisting his phone around so Soonyoung can see. “They’re everywhere.” 

They’re in Soonyoung’s room, Seokmin perched on the edge of the bed, leaning against the headboard and Soonyoung spread-eagle across it. 

“I’m sure management is looking forward to saying I told you so,” Seokmin mutters, resuming his scrolling. He reports a few tweets, but they’ve already gotten a few thousand retweets so it’s pointless. “

“Not much we can do about it anyway. They can’t expect us to stay inside the whole time,” Soonyoung says, around a loud yawn. “Could’ve at least gotten a better angle of me.” He pouts, stretching his body in a manner that looks awfully feline, although Seokmin determinedly holds his tongue, not willing to feed into Soonyoung’s whole feline persona agenda he has going on. 

Seokmin smiles fondly, carding his fingers through Soonyoung’s soft hair and Soonyoung almost preens under the attention. Seokmin has always loved his hair: thick and soft even if he has changed hair colours so many times over the years it’s impossible to keep count. His own hair is more damage prone, requiring him to constantly trim it when it starts to break off. Eventually he had just asked the stylists to stop making him bleach his hair altogether. 

“Pose for the stalkers next time,” Seokmin suggests. 

“Maybe I will.” Soonyoung smirks. “How fast do you think my career would tank if I flipped them off?” 

“Please don’t do that. I don’t want to be an accomplice to your career suicide,” Seokmin says. 

“Not an ounce of loyalty to be found anywhere these days.” Soonyoung scowls, feigning offence. 

“It’s okay, hyung, I will continue to financially support you for the rest of your life,” Seokmin sighs. 

“You leave your wallet behind everytime we go to eat outside, Seokmin. I’m not holding my breath,” Soonyoung manages to say before Seokmin smothers him with the nearest pillow. 

*****

Jihoon sends two audio files in the groupchat on their sixth day on the island. Seokmin's breath catches in his chest when he checks his notifications. There’s the familiar fluttering of nerves in his belly when he sees the files. 

They hold their breath when they play it, seated at the dining room table. Soonyoung listens intently with a concentrated furrow between his brows. 

He slams his hand down on the dining table once the track winds down. “This is going to be a fucking hit, I’m sure of it,” Soonyoung declares, eyes glowing darkly with excitement. 

There are no lyrics yet but the melody is powerful, tragic and haunting all at once and enough to render Seokmin speechless. Both versions of the track sound amazing and Jihoon tells them that they’ve sent it to the company and will be receiving feedback on it soon.

This is probably their cue to go back home and while a small part of Seokmin finds it disappointing that they have to cut their holiday short, it’s overcome with the thought of finally being able to immerse himself in music once again. 

Soonyoung suggests they celebrate the final night in grand fashion and although it sounds like a terrible idea when their return flight is at noon the next day, Seokmin can’t argue with the logic of it when Soonyoung comes back with a few bottles of soju and a case of beer to pair with the fried chicken they had ordered. 

Seokmin has gotten considerably better at getting the fireplace going after a week, he kindles it up before the cold can spread through the house even more. 

There's a festival taking place down at the Jeju Campus. Their house is close enough to be able to spot how the campus grounds are illuminated by golden string lights and for the muted thrum of music to get picked up by the wind and swept up to their balcony. 

Seokmin wants more than anything to be down there, buying himself and Soonyoung some questionably prepared cotton candy that melts between his fingers as they explore the rides and the stalls. But ever since the photos have started to surface a few days ago they've been advised to be more careful; it’s simply not worth the trouble of having to keep looking over their shoulders every few minutes. 

But it’s fine, this is still as good as it gets, Seokmin has to remind himself. There’s another whole box of chicken left untouched and even more beer to make up for it. And at least this way they have a better seat to the fireworks show from their balcony. 

It’s cold, bordering on fucking freezing on the balcony; obviously it had been bad idea to eat outside, but they’re waiting till the fireworks start and Seokmin is drunk enough that even though his fingertips have started to go numb and the concrete floor beneath him is cold enough to sting, all he can do is lean heavier against the wall and giggle stupidly at Soonyoung’s bad impressions of trot singers. 

Soonyoung looks and sounds equally tipsy, or more, surprisingly a lightweight for tonight, if the way his impersonations are getting sloppier by the second are any indication. His cheeks are shining with a dusky pink flush and the soft, rounded tip of his nose is red.

Against his better judgment Seokmin reaches out to pinch it. Soonyoung only wrinkles his nose instead of pulling away, delighted as he always is when offered skinship and a chance to be coddled like the sickeningly adorable and affectionate drunk that he is. 

“Did you know, Seungkwan’s still mad we didn’t tell him we came here,” Seokmin says once the buzz in his system settles down to a level where the world is no longer extra hilarious and moving too fast. He sighs contentedly and stretches his legs out in front of him. 

Soonyoung nudges his clothed foot against Seokmin’s and they half heartedly play around for a while. It’s obvious there can be no clear winner so the game ends before things could really heated and they move on from nudges to kicking each other.

Soonyoung settles for draping one leg over Seokmin’s shin. “Is it really our fault that he’s booked and busy, and knows half of the country so they all want to hang out with him?” 

“You don’t sound bitter at all.” 

Soonyoung pouts and crosses his arms across his chest. “He blew me off for dinner last week, I’m allowed to be petty.” 

Seokmin laughs. “You should’ve asked me, I would’ve come. See, that’s what you get for excluding me.” 

Soonyoung makes a noise of distress in the back of his throat and he must still be a little too tipsy because he misses the note of teasing in Seokmin’s tone and widens his eyes almost comically and starts to apologise. 

“I didn’t mean to, I swear,” Soonyoung whines, turning around to squish Seokmin’s cheeks between two cold hands. 

Seokmin pulls away from the sensation but Soonyoung only wraps his hands around Seokmin’s neck pulling him in close to a hug. 

“Hyung is sorry.” Soonyoung keeps blabbering into his shoulder so Seokmin pats him on the back and indulges the overly dramatic, drunken, display of emotion. 

And simply because at any other given time he would have been cripplingly embarrassed, Seokmin decides to take advantage of the moment. “No, hyung, thank you.” 

Soonyoung’s looks confused when he pulls away, mouth pinched and eyebrows drawn together. “For what?”

“For coming here with me,” Seokmin says, feeling his cheeks heat up against the stinging cold air.

For listening. And for seeing him, for really, really, seeing him and for assuring Seokmin that even the smallest fears and doubts in his head were real and valid, and no he’s not being stupid for letting his emotions get the best of him. These are all things Seokmin is grateful for, but for now he settles for this. 

“Of course,” Soonyoung beams, and Seokmin catches how his cheeks glow from the faint flush even in the dim light. 

Seokmin’s suddenly all too aware of how close their faces are. He’s not particularly uncomfortable at the lack of space between their bodies or how he had felt Soonyoung’s hot breath ghost over his face when he spoke earlier, but Seokmin’s suddenly hit with the realisation that in all the years spent together he has never seen Soonyoung’s face this up close.

Sure, they’ve done it before, as a joke, to annoy the members, or as fanservice so he should be used to this by now but doing it in the presence of a camera, with the safety net of a crowd that he can bounce his embarrassment off of is one thing, and looking at Soonyoung, holding his gaze while pressed so closely together, simply for the purpose of looking, is something else entirely, it’s feels different. It’s unsettling to see that Soonyoung’s watching him too. 

Seokmin’s not expecting it when Soonyoung holds the back of his neck and presses their lips together. 

And then time both slows down to singular frames and also blurs with how fast Soonyoung pulls back. It all happens so quickly that Seokmin’s not sure if anything happened at all. For an insane second Seokmin wonders if his brain had glitched, like that one time he had been on a really bad high and he lost an entire twenty four hours because of it. But it must have actually happened, because there’s an edge of panic in Soonyoung’s gaze as if finally realizing what he’s done. 

The moment is suspended between them until Seokmin becomes all too aware that Soonyoung’s almost half draped over his lap so when Soonyoung shifts his weight around, the bubble bursts. 

Soonyoung startles into action, pulling away and sliding off Seokmin to sit back down next to him but ends up knocking over his half finished can of beer. Soonyoung reacts too slowly and plops down on the spill with a wet sound.

Soonyoung freezes, eyes going wide for a few seconds, the liquid surely seeping in through the thin layers of his pants.

Soonyoung looks up at Seokmin with an expression similar to that of a toddler who fell over and is debating whether to burst into tears or laugh it off. It’s hilarious enough that Seokmin rightfully bursts into laughter even as he struggles to help Soonyoung stand. Eventually, Soonyoung joins in the laughter, after deciding that it’s no use crying over spilled beer after all. 

The floor is a mess, crisp pieces from the chicken littered around and the cement darkened with the pool of beer that spreads and drips over the edge. 

Seokmin leans closer to look at Sooyoung's soaked pants and shakes his head. “That’s enough drinking for you, I think.” 

“Okay, mom,” Soonyoung retorts.

When Seokmin offers him a hand, Soonyoung smiles up at him with a dopey smile on his face until he suddenly grabs Seokmin’s hand to pull him down. Seokmin curses when his knees fall on the floor hard, his own jeans getting soaked through with the beer. Soonyoung giggles loudly and only tightens his hold around Seokmin when he tries ro scramble away. 

Soonyoung’s dead weight in Seokmin’s arms once he pulls him up to stand. He talks nonsense and giggles into Seokmin’s shoulder while being led back inside the house. 

Soonyoung teeters on his toes when he reaches around to wrap his arms around Seokmin’s neck, as Seokmin tries to lower him down to sit on the couch. At this point Seokmin’s not sure if Soonyoung’s actually this drunk or if he’s just being extra difficult to make Seokmin’s life harder.

His arms are aching, Soonyoung being deceptively heavy for someone this smaller than him. Probably all that muscle weight, Seokmin thinks belatedly when Soonyoung manages to drag him down to the couch as well. 

*****

Unsurprisingly, waking up early the next morning is hell. While they’re only supposed to be at the airport half an hour before the flight, it still ends up being a close call because they need to turn in the house key, take the one and a half hour drive to the airport, hand over their rental car and then check in at the airport, all the while they’re both sporting a light headache. 

Soonyoung settles into his seat with sigh, looking too out of it to even be nervous when the plane takes off but wordlessly slides his hand into Seokmin’s anyway, halfway through the flight. 

Finally allowed to relax since their rush earlier, Seokmin can’t help but turn over last night’s memories in his mind. They’re hazy, but clear enough to make his stomach churn slightly when he thinks about how Soonyoung’s lips had felt against his own and what it could have meant.

If Seokmin were the kind of person to get hung up on technicalities, which he is, then technically it wasn’t even a kiss; it was only a wet smash of their mouths together. He also remembers that at one point in the night Soonyoung had shoved two twisted pieces of tissue into his nostrils, so what’s the point really, in bringing up just one of the many questionable things Soonyoung had done while drunk, when all it will do is make things awkward between them. 

*****

Moving back into the dorms feels like a missing piece of a puzzle finally finding its way home to complete the picture. 

He knows that the weeks ahead will take a toll on all of them both physically and emotionally but he finds comfort in the thought of the satisfaction awaiting them, of being able to watch their album climb up the charts and to feel the rush of happiness when they win first place on a music show. 

The week spent in Jeju exists only in the pictures on his phone: as pale, under saturated photos of sunsets and dark, blurry moments of walking along the street at night that had managed to capture only a fraction of each moment’s true calming essence. But the memories Seokmin tucks in closer to his chest, like the afternoon they spent wandering aimlessly through the city only to stumble upon a hole in the wall cafe, empty except for a few senior citizens, is a salve against any hint of darker thoughts that may seep into his conscience

And then there’s the final night spent at the small cottage. That, however, is a memory Seokmin makes sure to fold once, twice and then thrice like a note passed between lovers during class before tucking it into the back pocket of his mind. 

*****

It’s always too easy to let the rush of adrenaline carry him through gruelling hours of practice but some days the dam holding back the accumulated exhaustion crashes and makes it impossible to fall asleep.

Tonight is one of those nights it seems, where the ache in his muscles and his restless mind keeps him floating just on the edge of consciousness. It only takes a small noise outside his room, Junhui easing his door shut softly to wake Seokmin up fully. 

The performance team had hung back after regular practice hours to discuss the finer points in their choreographies; it’s not unusual prior to a comeback. And with three of their B-side tracks still lacking choreography, the performance team is definitely starting to feel the pressure. 

Everyone else is only all too aware of it; if Seokmin’s own temperament has been frayed at the ends lately, then the rest of the members tiptoe around Soonyoung, Minghao, Junhui and Chan like they’re raw and exposed nerves. But still, it speaks for something, Seokmin thinks, how everyone still has faith in the performance unit members to come through with routines nothing short of amazing. 

Seokmin rolls on to his side, watching the shadows dance on the sliver of light sneaking in under his door, listening, as one more door closes down the hall and waits for a final click that never comes. 

Seokmin doesn’t think he can go back to sleep anyway so he throws off his covers, feeling too hot and considers his options; he can roll around in bed until he gets sick of it or he can go back to the practice room and drag Soonyoung back home so they can both get some sleep. In the end it’s not a very hard choice for him to make. 

Seokmin used to think the title of a leader was either an anchor hung around the neck, weighing a person down, or it was a badge they wore proudly as something earned. 

Soonyoung, however, had flipped that theory on it’s head and twisted the title of being the performance team leader to fit the mould he wanted; he didn’t so much lead as much as he did push them from behind until every single member reached their peak potential. But nights like tonight are a reminder that at the end of the day Soonyoung is not always immune to the pressure that comes along with the title.

Seokmin had walked in on Soonyoung running through the motions of one dance move, and then repeating it at least a dozen times before catching Seokmin’s reflection in the mirror and allowing himself to rest.

Soonyoung groans, twisting his hands into his hair in frustration. “I can’t move on until we fix this. It’s the pre chorus that’s not fitting in with the rest of the routine, so I’ve been trying to smooth it out but the transition just isn’t working.” 

Seokmin reaches out, cautiously stroking the back of Soonyoung’s hand still buried in his hair, worried that any moment Soonyoung’s going to pull a clump of it out in frustration. 

“Maybe I’m just bad at this. Sure, I've had a good run with this whole choreography thing, but maybe now it’s time to pass on the torch to someone else.” 

“You’re so dramatic.” Seokmin snorts. “But if you’re this desperate then sure, I’ll throw in some ideas, but I think they’ll be too complex for the rest of you to keep up with,” 

Soonyoung finally lets go of his hair to reach out and give Seokmin a shove. There’s no real force behind it but Seokmin lets himself be toppled over, falling onto his side.

“I was thinking more along the lines of it being our maknae.” 

“Chan will kill us all,” Seokmin warns. The polished floor is cold but the sensation of it against his sore body is not entirely unpleasant. Seokmin closes his eyes, letting himself melt against the smooth cement, exhaustion weighing down his bones like his marrow is made of liquid iron and the floor is magnetic. 

“Hey! Don’t be mean,” Soonyoung scolds with no real heat behind it and slaps Seokmin lightly on the thigh. 

“You know I’m right.” Seokmin pouts, rubbing at the spot on his thigh to soothe the smarting. “Seriously though, you’ve got to trust me when I say the world isn’t going to come crashing down on us tomorrow if you don’t figure out the pre-chorus of a B-side overnight.” 

There’s only an awful silence that rolls off of the older man and it settles on Seokmin’s chest heavily. 

“Besides, you’re not giving yourself enough credit. A big reason why everyone who watches our performances falls in love with them is because of our choreography— because of you. And we’ve all known you long enough to know that even if it starts out a little rough, you always manage to pull through with something amazing to save our asses. The other guys trust you, and so do I,” Seokmin assures him, not caring about his own desperation seeping into his voice to drive these words home, wanting to make Soonyoung truly understand. 

“You’re sort of like the Gandalf of dance if you really think about it, except you’re not so old, even though you love to pretend as if you’re ancient and wise,” Seokmin adds, just to ease the belated embarrassment and thick tension that follows his outburst. 

“Thanks,” Soonyoung lets out a startled laugh: it’s still a little brittle around the edges, falling sharp and short, but it’s a start. “So who are you in this Lord of The Rings scenario?”

“Obviously I’m Legolas because I’m tall and strikingly handsome.” 

“An orc would’ve suited you better ‘cause your face is gross. Besides you talk too much.” 

Although he can’t see Soonyoung’s face from this angle, it’s easy to hear the smile in his voice. 

“Your mom thinks my face is cute,” Seokmin snaps, dignifying the playground level insult with matching one of his own. 

“Ouch. That’s a low blow because I can’t even argue with that. Not when everyone knows it’s the truth.”

Seokmin cracks his eyes open when he feels the air above him shift, and the glare of the fluorescent lights filtering through his eyelids dim. 

Soonyoung is grinning down at him, his face eclipsing Seokmin’s field of vision until Soonyoung is all he can see: two spots of colour high up on his cheekbones and the damp ends of his overgrown fringe falling into his eyes as he holds himself over Seokmin. Suddenly breathing becomes a task Seokmin has to actively remind himself to do. 

“So, what are we supposed to do when life hits us with the heaviest lemons full of creative cock block it can find?” Soonyoung asks, dark eyes glowing like he’s about to let Seokmin in on a secret. 

“Well usually I go home and have a good cry about it but I don’t think that’s the answer you’re looking for.” It earns Seokmin another playful punch to the arm. Soonyoung clicks his tongue at him, shaking his head in disapproval. 

The air is colder in Soonyoung’s absence when he moves away and rises to his feet, walking over to the laptop and the mixer set in the corner. “No, my sweet child, we dodge the hits by dancing to early 2000s pop songs,” he says, over the scratch of interference the speakers make when he plugs in his phone. 

Seokmin sits up straight, watching Soonyoung scroll through his phone until the speakers start to play a melody. It doesn’t register right away, but the beginning of it is familiar and once he realises what it is, Seokmin laughs. 

Soonyoung smiles at him, eyes curving into crescents as he starts singing along to an english pop song and absolutely butchers the lyrics. Seokmin’s not entirely innocent because all he knows is the chorus and it’s been ages since he had last listened to the song but he sings along anyway, making up random words. He lets himself be dragged up to his feet and pulled to the center of the room. 

There were several kinds of dancers; Seokmin himself is very much reliant on choreography and he often finds freestyle dancing to be both daunting and embarrassing, not that it has ever stopped him from causing chaos when the cameras were rolling, but Soonyoung is something else entirely. 

Flowing like water, limbs graceful and precise even if all he executes is a simple shuffle or a shimmy, there is a precision and confidence to every move Soonyoung makes that Seokmin has never truly managed to master. At one point Soonyoung twerks and still manages to pull it off in a semi-dignified manner: a true talent. 

If as a teenager Seokmin had been starstruck by the boy who dominated every concept and choreography thrown his way, while single handedly managing to teach the other trainees the routines in his free time, then after all these years later he can only hope the edges of his admiration have become polished, and has dulled to a more refined state where the amazement in his eyes isn’t nearly as naked and obvious. 

After three full songs Seokmin’s t-shirt is soaked through. He walks off to the side, leaning against a wall for support, trying to draw in gulps of air into his heaving lungs, which is no easy task because he’s still laughing so hard. The wall sticks to his skin grossly when he slides down to sit on the floor. 

It had been altogether too easy to close his eyes and let Soonyoung twirl him or to copy a move that makes him look ridiculous: to forget about the deadlines that hung over them and to feel like how they used to, when someone would blast Shinee so loud on their beat up old stereo that they feared getting scolded by the neighbours upstairs. 

So maybe Soonyoung is right, and dancing with no inhibition of self should be a new form of therapy on it’s own if it isn’t already. 

“So... did inspiration happen to strike while you were twerking to Girl’s Generation?” Seokmin asks when Soonyoung eventually turns off the music and joins him on the floor. 

“Not really,” Soonyoung confesses. “But I think I’m tired enough to go home and pass out now so that’s something,” he says, stretching the hem of his tank top to wipe the sweat beading his brow. 

The silence that follows settles between them like an old friend and Seokmin takes the time to trace the outline of Soonyoung’s reflection in the large mirror facing them. The finer details of his face are blurred, but Seokmin knows better. Soonyoung is soft around the edges but refined and bold like practiced strokes of a paintbrush across canvas.

It’s a little concerning to realise that he notices most things about Soonyoung, but doesn’t quite remember when he had taken the time to actively make himself look. 

Seokmin breaks silence by calling out Soonyoung’s name, his heart hammering against his ribs; the question that had been at the back of his mind ever since their trip to Jeju, now poised at the tip of his tongue. Soonyoung acknowledges him with a soft hum. 

Seokmin takes a deep breath that catches in his chest and decides to take the leap, preparing himself in advance for the plummeting fall and the mess it might make.

“Why’d you do it, kiss me that night?” 

It’s only due to his curiosity, the need to make it make sense; there’s nothing wrong with wanting to know, Seokmin tells himself. 

The longer the silence stretches the more it reminds him that perhaps knowing the answer will do more harm than good for his peace of mind. There’s good reason for them not having acknowledged it: not in the morning after and not in the weeks that followed, but here is that thing again, where it’s so deep into the hours of the A.M. that it tricks Seokmin into thinking it’s safe to let his vulnerability bloom without having to agonise over the consequences of it in the morning. 

“Was it because it was me, or because you were drunk, wanted to kiss someone and I just happened to be there? 

When he finally gets enough courage to look at Soonyoung, he finds Soonyoung picking at a loose thread in the seam of his sweatpants, eyes downcast and lower lip caught between his teeth. 

“I don’t know,” Soonyoung admits, quietly. “A bit of both, maybe.” 

Soonyoung’s expression is painfully honest and open. Seokmin doesn’t understand why it stings so bad when it sounds so much like the truth. 

“Like right now,” Soonyoung continues, voice rising barely above a whisper. “I wouldn’t mind kissing someone— just because I’m so fucking frustrated and I feel like crap warmed over and kissing feels nice.” Soonyoung shrugs. “But also, I’m painfully sober right now, and I would still kiss you because you’re the only one who’s willing to watch me twerk to old girl group songs and still clap like you watched me perform a contemporary dance routine. Does that make sense?” 

And oddly enough, it does. To Seokmin’s sleep deprived, sluggish brain, the explanation clicks into place, fitting snugly like the last piece of a puzzle. 

Seokmin holds his breath when Soonyoung moves closer, feeling his own pulse quicken with anticipation. He feels suspended in Soonyoung’s gaze, not quite trapped but unable to do anything but watch him with wide eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks. 

Soonyoung licks his lips nervously and Seokmin finds himself fascinated by it. When he tears his gaze back to look at Sooyoung, although it’s usually easy to read Soonyoung like an open book, now there are too many emotions flashing through his eyes for Seokmin to decipher. 

There’s uncertainty and anticipation in the way Soonyoung holds himself, within Seokmin’s personal orbit, close enough for him to see the flush under Soonyoung’s skin but distant enough that if Seokmin wants to lean back and laugh about it, the world will still be the same tomorrow. 

Seokmin leans in and Soonyoung meets him halfway with a soft gasp, letting Seokmin catch the soft swell of his bottom lip between his own. 

Seokmin’s world changes everyday, flashing by too fast and full of too many variables; Soonyoung at least has always felt like a constant. 

*****

They don’t talk about it: not about how Soonyoung had gripped Seokmin’s face in his hands and kissed him like he was something fragile or how Seokmin had kissed him right back, gripping Soonyoung’s hips hard enough to bruise when he felt the weight of him settle on his lap. 

He can’t help but feel guilty, like he had selfishly set into motion something they won’t be able to undo but Soonyoung wakes up the next morning and smiles at Seokmin as sweetly as ever, clinging to him and laughing loud and boisterous at Seokmin’s jokes throughout the day. 

And Seokmin lets him, feeling relieved because it soothes the anxiety he had carried within himself since last night, all the way from the practice room and back to the dorms. 

The ground hadn’t crumbled beneath their feet and the world hadn’t flipped on its axis, so they let it get buried underneath the mountain of practice hours and nights spent at the studio. 

What Seokmin doesn’t understand is, why the familiarity of it all is wedging itself so sharply between his ribs, like a dull ache which manifests larger with each passing day. 

A traitorous voice in the back of Seokmin’s mind taunts him, telling him that this is attraction; it’s desire, crawling through his system, threatening to take over and trigger a fever within him. 

But Seokmin knows better than anyone how entertaining it can often be deadly, serving as a bold, black period at the end of a career if you let it get the best of you. 

That’s not to say that relationships have been off limits to their group. They’ve all had their fair share of them, some more than others but there’s just an unspoken rule of having to keep it within a tight knit circle of friends and keeping the company’s management updated unless you want it to backfire in your face. 

His last girlfriend had broken up with him because they had both gotten too caught up in their relationship and as the leader of her group, a more junior group than his, if only by two years, she had felt as though she owed her members more than a potential scandal waiting to happen. 

He had seen it happen to his peers within the industry enough times, and prior to that, trainees who shed their tears and sweat right next to him. 

Watching them stumble and fall into temptation while Seokmin had persevered with single minded focus on the stage lights at the end of the tunnel: debut, meant that he understood why she was willing to sacrifice an entire year worth of loving and feeling loved in return for safeguarding what she had built for herself. And although the split had been mutual, every word of her promise to just remain as friends had sent painful fissures through his heart. 

What Seokmin finds himself craving now though, is the kind of thing people only whisper to each other, never speaking it out loud lest it becomes too real and no longer someone’s dirty little secret. 

And even though Soonyoung, unsurprisingly, has always considered himself immune to the many intangible restraints that keep them in check, Seokmin having borne witness to entirely too many inebriated hook-ups and flirtations of Soonyoung’s with both men and women, it has never been that easy for Seokmin to do. 

So it’s an all new kind of hell, having to be around Soonyoung all the time and not being able to reach out the way he wants to. Soonyoung’s not making it any easier, seeming to be blissfully ignorant of Seokmin's internal turmoil, only draping himself all over Seokmin every chance he gets. 

Seokmin decides to chalk it up to the fact that it’s been entirely too long since he’s been with someone and their kiss had just been the trigger that sent his hormones into overdrive; all his pent up stress looking for release and finding Soonyoung to be the nearest and easiest outlet. 

It makes it easier to justify his newfound fascination with Soonyoung and what his lips look like after they’ve been nibbled on, or the way the light catches on the sharp jut of his cheekbones.

*****

Usually it’s Soonyoung who calls off their practice in a voice so thinned out by sheer exhaustion that it grates Seokmin’s ears, but tonight it’s Seungcheol’s firm voice that reminds everyone not to work themselves to the bone; they can’t risk burning out or anyone getting injured when they’re at the final stretch, just two weeks prior to the comeback date. 

Soonyoung’s mouth is set to disagree and Seokmin can almost hear Soonyoung’s thoughts out loud, wanting to argue that it’s precisely why they can’t let up, why their lines need to be sharper and their formations more tightly knit. 

Wonwoo beats him to it, wrapping a hand around Soonyoung's forearm as a gentle warning to not push it, not so close to a deadline, not when surely everyone’s muscles were just as twitchy and cramped as his were; there’s nothing more they can work on at this hour that will really stick with anyone. After a tense moment, Soonyoung deflates, mouth slackening and shoulders curving inwards. 

There’s a madness they’re all too familiar with when it comes to Soonyoung and dancing, and there are hints of it looming behind his irises now, as Seokmin’s eyes connect with Soonyoung’s, before Soonyoung tears his gaze away.

Seokmin walks over to his bag propped up on the opposite side of the room and pulls out his phone: it’s almost 3 am.

He can’t recall who exactly ripped off the large clock that had once hung on the wall, maybe it was Jeonghan or one frustrated Seungkwan, but they had all breathed a silent sigh of relief because none of the members wanted to be reminded how time moved both excruciatingly slow and then slipped out of their grasp unfairly fast when they needed it to stretch on the most when they were practicing. 

This had only made it too easy for them to forget the existence of a world outside of this perpetually fluorescent lit room. But he definitely feels the past six hours in his sore limbs, muscles of his thighs aching as if they’re going to explode. 

The air in the corridors bite his skin even though the central air conditioning in the building has been long since switched off. Once they step out of the front doors it’s colder still, the padding of his jacket barely protecting him from the chilly air. 

Seokmin pauses briefly to smile at the watchman who looks like he had been dozing off on his chair just a few minutes ago, but is now pacing the entrance, looking impatient to lock up. A pair of hands settle over his hips as if to sidle past him, but instead gently pulls him closer until his back is met with a solid body.

One of the pros of living in close proximity for years is that over time Seokmin has come to appreciate the fact that he can tell all of his members apart from touch alone. But since recently his senses have been even more attuned to one of them in particular so when Soonyoung holds him close, Seokmin’s heart does a traitorous flip in his chest. 

Seokmin reaches back and holds on to the fingers splayed over his waist as he lets himself be led down the last few steps to the parking lot and only lets go once they reach the sleek black van. He ends up sitting between Soonyoung and Mingyu, which means it’s a tight fit but Seokmin is too tired to complain, not even when Mingyu leans against him, head settling heavily on his shoulder. 

Not to mention, it’s warmth that Seokmin had desperately missed during the short walk to the vehicle so he shuffles closer, trying to leech off Mingyu’s body heat as quickly as he can. It helps that Mingyu is an actual six foot something furnace on legs. And it makes it easier to pretend that Soonyoung’s hand on his thigh doesn’t feel like it’s searing a brand onto his skin. 

He falls asleep during the short drive back to their dorm and is jolted awake when Mingyu shifts and elbows him sharply in the ribs. Everyone piles out of the three vehicles in silence, shuffling their feet as they stumble over the threshold of the lobby, eager to be back home. 

Seokmin drags his sore body to his room, only to find out that someone, he’s pretty sure it’s Junhui, has stolen his foaming cleanser. Seokmin has no incriminating evidence of course, aside from the fact that it has happened countless times before, but it’s just as likely that it’s lost somewhere in the mess of his own room. 

Falling face first into his bed and succumbing to sleep without washing up is an inviting thought but he feels too disgusting: clothes soaked through with sweat, grime and oil getting caught under his nails when he cards his hand through his hair. 

He’s too tired to march down the hall and annoy Junhui about it, so instead he settles for simply using Junhui’s face wash; it’s only fair after all, not to mention, his bathroom is much closer to Seokmin’s room. 

Seokmin lets out a startled cry when Soonyoung comes up behind him just as he’s done rinsing his face, wrapping his hands around Seokmin’s waist, and pressing his cheek his shoulder.

“Fucking hell,” Seokmin curses, almost hitting his head on the glass shelf of the mirror as he comes up. Water drips from his hairline and into his eyes in stinging rivulets. 

“Shit, sorry.” Soonyoung mumbles an apology into his shoulder, not sounding like he means it at all. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

Soonyoung clings to him even as Seokmin grabs a face towel and pats his face and hands dry. 

Even though this is something they’ve always done, physical affection coming easily to both of them, the way Soonyoung presses his mouth hotly against the back of his shoulder, moving on to trace the edge of the collar of his t-shirt is entirely new. 

It’s an average sized bathroom, nothing like the cramped spaces they’ve had to use in the past, but suddenly it's too small, walls closing in and his entire world sharpening down to the press of Soonyoung’s body against his own. 

Recently, when Soonyoung is involved, Seokmin’s skin feels too small to contain himself. 

“Hyung,” he chokes out when Soonyoung’s lips graze the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “What’re you doing?” 

Soonyoung’s lips still against the side of his neck. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, resting his forehead against Seokmin’s back and taking in a shuddering breath that reverberates through his body. “Do you want me to stop?” 

The smart thing to say is ‘yes’. Yes, Seokmin wants Soonyoung to stop so they don’t make more of a mess, before whatever this turns ugly and uncontrollable. 

But the truth is that ever since that night in the practice room, Seokmin has wanted nothing more than to feel the scorching, lustful heat of Soonyoung’s touch on his skin again. 

Before he can answer, Soonyoung is stepping back. There’s a traitorous feeling of disappointment when Soonyoung’s arms withdraw from around his waist, his body reacting at the sudden loss of warmth and source of pleasure. 

Soonyoung closes the door behind him before leaning against it, regarding Seokmin through the mirror, eyes glowing darkly, the emotions within them unreadable. There’s that fever, the madness in his eyes once more, a little bit like he’s on the edge of losing it. It’s much more pronounced under the orange light inside the bathroom than it had been before. 

His eyes widen minutely in surprise when Seokmin turns around and takes a step closer to bridge the gap between them. 

Everything after that happens in a heated blur that barely registers in Seokmin’s mind through the searing fog of lust that surrounds them. 

Their teeth knock together when Soonyoung surges up to match Seokmin’s height, teetering on his toes to kiss him back just as hungrily. Seokmin moves forward, pressing Soonyoung up against the door and using it to pull him even closer.

Hard lines of their bodies clash before fitting against each other like they were made for that very purpose. 

Soonyoung gasps into his mouth a small, broken sound before Seokmin pulls away. 

Soonyoung lets out a breathless laugh, letting his head fall back against the door, eyes fixed on the ceiling, his chest rising and falling fast. “I’ll take that as a no, then.” 

Seokmin can’t look away, fascinated by the line of Soonyoung’s exposed throat, the soft dip of his clavicle and the light flush colouring his collarbones. The realisation that he’s responsible for creating such a pretty picture is addicting.

He wants to lean forward and collect the desire pooled at the base of Soonyoung’s throat, testing how much farther he can push Soonyoung and learn exactly how much more it will take to unravel him. 

His desire is running wild, coursing through his body, threatening to overtake him now that it has finally been set free. 

Soonyoung melts against him, a hand sliding up Seokmin’s arm to cradle the back of his head gently when Seokmin presses a soft kiss to the side of his neck. 

When Seokmin bites down on the sensitive skin under his jaw, the fingers curled around Seokmin’s hair tightens into a fist, tugging at it and making him groan into Soonyoung’s overheated skin. 

Seokmin blinks in confusion, his body reacting at the lost warmth when Soonyoung places a firm hand on his chest and gently pushes him away. Soonyoung reaches behind him and flips the lock and Seokmin cringes at how it’s entirely too loud when it clicks into place.

“Can I touch you?” 

The rush of blood down Seokmin’s body is so quick he feels lightheaded. He can only nod his head dumbly, holding himself absolutely still when Soonyoung’s fingers curl into the waistband of his pants. 

Soonyoung tugs his pants down and brushes his thumbs along the skin just below his navel in small circles. His eyes flicker up to Seokmin’s before sliding his palm down to trace the hard outline of Seokmin’s semi-hard cock straining against the cotton of his underwear. 

Everything is moving too slow. It leaves too much room for Seokmin to overthink, like about how bad of an idea this is and for so many reasons. The fact that they’re only separated from the rest of the members by a thin door being the least of their problems. 

But then Soonyoung finally pushes his hand inside his underwear, the bare skin of his palm searing the sensitive skin of his cock as he wraps his hand around it and every single doubt in Seokmin’s mind is edged out by heady pleasure.

The ceramic edge of the sink digs into his hips sharply, grounding him when Soonyoung’s hand starts to move. The angle is all wrong and the slide is too dry but it’s a hand job, so even if it’s bad, it still feels pretty fucking great. 

Soonyoung shoves his underwear down with a frustrated noise and Seokmin feels overly exposed, embarrassed even, which is probably an overreaction because everyone currently living in the house has seen him naked at some point. Except now he’s hard and Soonyoung’s holding his dick in the palm of his hand which kind of makes Seokmin’s brain feel like it’s going to melt. 

Maybe it does, when Soonyoung spits into his palm and strokes Seokmin faster, squeezing around the flushed head. Seokmin hisses, eyes falling shut when he presses his thumb into the slit, collecting the droplets of precome and using it to make the slide easier. 

It definitely feels like his brain leaks out of his ears when Soonyoung leans forward to bite down on the sensitive skin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, running his tongue over the bite to soothe it afterwards. He mumbles soft words of encouragement into Seokmin’s skin when he starts to buck up into Soonyoung’s hand.

When Seokmin finally comes, Soonyoung presses up against him, trapping him between his body and the sink to hold him up and Seokmin muffles his moans into Soonyoung’s shoulder. 

Soonyoung’s t-shirt is ruined and Seokmin’s ears burn when he catches sight of the slick mess he’s made. 

Soonyoung dismisses Seokmin’s mumbled apology with an equally embarrassed wave of his hand. Then, because Seokmin’s functioning on a negative number of brain cells at the moment, he does the best thing he can think of and he runs to his room like that will actually help him escape his bad decisions. 

*****

It’s starting to become quite the routine with them: letting their impulses get the best of them and then pretending like it never happened. 

Sometimes, Soonyoung catches him staring in one of the rare moments that Seokmin really lets himself look. His heart seizes up in his chest every time he’s caught. If things were back to normal once again, perhaps Soonyoung would have made a face at him or given him a small smile but now he only stares right back. 

His gaze isn’t tainted with judgment, nor is it curious. He simply looks at Seokmin until the tips of Seokmin’s ears burn and he has to look away, willing the cold grip around his heart to loosen up. 

Most of all, he misses Soonyoung. Like a black hole that only expands, the absence of their usual banter, Soonyoung’s stupid, stupid jokes that were still funny enough to make him laugh and the simple comfort of Soonyoung’s presence is growing too large for Seokmin to handle. 

If any of the other members notice the way Seokmin’s body goes tight with tension when he feels Soonyoung’s presence too close to him, they don’t mention it, at least not for a few days. 

They’re in the middle of having a practice with just the vocalists, going through their individual parts and harmonies when Jeonghan makes up an excuse about a sore throat and needing hot water, taking everyone else except Seokmin and Soonyoung along with him, because obviously, filling up a flask from the water cooler is no slight task and requires group effort. So it’s not fair to say that Soonyoung finally corners him, when Jeonghan is the real mastermind behind it, but Soonyoung, being ever the opportunist, takes the chance to pin Seokmin down with a weighted stare. 

“Seokmin,” Soonyoung starts, then his voice catches at the end and he clears his throat a few times while Seokmin tries really hard to stare a hole in the stack of lyric sheets he’s holding in his lap. “I’m—, I’m really sorry about what happened. It shouldn’t have happened, but I was a little out of my mind that night and I know it’s no excuse but… yeah, I’m sorry,” he finishes in one hurried breath. 

It’s painful, having to watch Soonyoung sound so unsure, his voice, a flickering flame, with eyes so large and beseeching as they searched Seokmin’s face. 

“Please, say something,” Soonyoung pleads. He reaches out as if to touch Seokmin on the arm but aborts the gesture, withdrawing his hand back instantly. And Seokmin can’t lie and pretend that it doesn’t sting a little; for some reason, the hesitation hurts. 

“It’s okay,” Seokmin says, because he needs to make sure that he won’t feel that unfamiliar sting once again. “Hyung, it’s fine.” Seokmin lets out a humorless laugh, the absurdity of all the events which snowballed and led up to this moment finally hitting him in full force. “We made out in the practice room already, and I had no complaints then, so how is this any different?” 

“You know how. That was different,” Soonyoung mutters, eyes downcast once again. “Never meant to make things so… weird between us.” 

Seokmin flushes when he thinks back on the events, and how good it had felt at the time; it was nothing like this awkward tension that’s been stewing between them since. It’s an ugly clash between such a memory of heated pleasure, and this sickening pool of emotions that churn within him. 

“It felt good,” Seokmin blurts out. The words stumble over each other, falling out of him to land in a mess between them. He flushes, feeling the back of his neck grow hotter. 

Soonyoung looks a little less like someone had kicked his puppy when he jerks his head up to stare at Seokmin. 

“It was good,” Seokmin mumbles. He runs his tongue over his lips, trying to bide time and takes a deep breath. “I liked it. Obviously,” he adds as an afterthought.

“It was good and you... liked it?” Soonyoung repeats, his voice smaller than Seokmin has ever heard it and sounding a little disbelieving. 

“Sure.” Seokmin shrugs. “It wasn’t totally horrible since I did end up coming all over your t-shirt, which by the way, I’m sorry about,” Seokmin says, in a rushed breath and the teasing falls flat when his own voice sounds so brittle. But this time it’s Soonyoung who flushes, and it’s both an endearing and pretty sight, which emboldens Seokmin, if only a little. 

“Do you want to do it again?” Seokmin immediately wants to shove the question right back into his mouth, and quite possibly run out of the room. But the rest of his members are still out there and there’s really no plausible explanation Seokmin could offer as to why he ran for his life from Soonyoung without exposing themselves. 

Soonyoung’s eyes go round as coins and his mouth falls open.

“You know what, nevermind, just forget I said anything. That was a bad idea anyway,” Seokmin says. His face is flaming by now, rejection settling heavily over him. This cannot be any more embarrassing, and Seokmin prays that the floor opens up and drags him right down into a pit of fire and brimstone. 

Soonyoung reaches out to grip Soonyoung’s forearm tight, perhaps sensing how Seokmin’s body is all tensed up for flight. “Hear me out first, you idiot,” he says, gently. 

“After what happened I thought that maybe you hated me and I was starting to hate myself a little for fucking things up so bad” Soonyoung continues. “But… it was good for me too. You were good,” he murmurs. 

“So, it doesn’t ever have to mean anything, but it can’t be so wrong if it makes both of us feel better, right?” Seokmin wonders aloud, rather than voicing an actual question.

“Right.” Soonyoung still answers it with a whisper. He looks at Seokmin as though seeing him in an entirely different light, and maybe it’s true. Something in Seokmin feels like it’s shifted, because he can’t imagine his past self addressing it so boldly.

In the few beats of silence that envelops them, Seokmin feels suspended in Soonyoung’s gaze, in it’s familiar depthlessness. He holds his breath when Soonyoung leans forward in his seat to bridge the gap between them, gently dragging Seokmin in closer by his shoulders to pull him into a tight hug. 

Soonyoung gets up to his feet once they break apart, walking over to the closed studio door and throwing it open to call out in a loud voice, “You guys can stop hiding and come in now.” 

And the rest of the vocalists shuffle back into the room, sans the hot water flask, suggesting that they’ve been loitering just around the corner the entire time anyway. Jeonghan looks entirely too smug that his stupid little plan to get Seokmin and Soonyoung to talk had worked out so well. 

*****

Soft spoken for the most part, and quite possibly one of the most easy going and flexible members to be around, Joshua has always been an absolute joy to have as a dorm mate. It’s one of the key reasons Seokmin had wanted to be the fifth flatmate.

But two or three weeks of complete neglect of the apartment, stray clothes hanging off the backs of chairs and balled up underwear and socks migrating magically onto the couch, and one time the dining table, Joshua looks about two seconds away from losing his mind. Mingyu beats him to it though, groaning and doubling over in his frustration to scream into one of the cushions on the settee. 

Seokmin on the other hand is no stranger to a mess. His laundry basket is constantly in a state of overflowing and his wardrobe spills out onto the floor making it a challenge to walk anywhere within the room.

He likes to think of it as his room exuding charm and character, but everyone else only ever looks at it disapprovingly and calls it disgusting. But even he has to admit that after three weeks of neglecting the chores around the dorm it’s a little too much. Not to mention, he’s been wearing the same t-shirt to bed two days in a row.

Joshua knows, that Seokmin knows, Joshua uses rock the most when playing rock, paper, scissors, so when they’re the final two players left, the cunning bastard uses it to his advantage and throws out scissors. Seokmin’s scream of victory as he holds his palm up in the air is short lived once he realises what happened.

Still, being on laundry duty is a lot more desirable than any of the other tasks delegated to the others so he’s more than happy to hoist up the huge basket overflowing with everyone’s dirty clothes and head downstairs. 

His knees crack loudly in the small storage room as he bends down to open the hatch of the washing machine and shove a handful of laundry in. There’s still so many clothes left over at the end of it, enough for at least two more turns, so Seokmin heaves out a heavy sigh, getting ready to settle down for a long night. 

The room is small enough that when Seokmin slides down the wall and sits on the floor with his legs extended out the tips of his toes almost touch the wall opposite to him. And it’s unbearably stuffy, because everything except for the washing machine has been collecting dust ever since they moved in.

Despite the discomfort, Seokmin finds himself nodding off soon, the muted hum and sway of the washing machine lulling him into a state of not quite slumber, but more of a mind numbed daze. 

Seokmin squeaks, startling upright from a slouch when the door cracks open right next to him and Soonyoung pops his head in.

“You seriously need to stop doing that,” Seokmin groans, rubbing his chest to soothe his racing heart. 

Soonyoung eases the door shut much more gently. “Sorry, thought you might want some company.”

“Be honest, you just didn’t want to be the one cleaning out the fridge.” 

“Guilty.” Soonyoung laughs, sitting down next to Soonyoung and leaning back against the door. 

After helping Seokmin unload the first batch of freshly washed clothes, he helps Seokmin load the second in and once they’ve settled back down, Soonyoung pulls out his phone and plays a random pop song at a low volume, just loud enough to mix in with the occasional thud and bangs the washing machine emits, rather than drown them out completely. 

Seokmin leans down and places his head on Soonyoung’s shoulder and closes his eyes. It feels too easy to fall asleep like this, to let the gentle sound of Soonyoung’s breathing pull him under. 

“I’ve been thinking.” Seokmin blinks, his daze broken when Soonyoung starts to speak softly.

“Uh oh.” 

Soonyoung swats at his thigh lightly. “Anyway as I was saying, I’ve just been thinking.” Soonyoung clears his throat and continues, sounding a touch hesitant. “Have you ever kissed a guy before?”

Seokmin straightens up, a little surprised and not entirely too sure what to do with the question. Soonyoung’s not looking at him so Seokmin ends up staring at his side profile until his sluggish brain processes what exactly Soonyoung wants to know, but he draws a blank. 

Seokmin smirks, even though he knows Soonyoung can’t see it from this angle. “Why, are you jealous?” 

“You wish,” Soonyoung scoffs. “Now answer the question.”

“You know I haven’t.” It’s true. If the answer is ‘yes’ then Soonyoung of all people would’ve already known by now.

“Then why did you suggest that we-– you know, keep messing around?” Soonyoung murmurs, in a low voice. 

“Really? You’re curious about this now?” Seokmin asks incredulously. After a moment’s pause he speaks, choosing his words carefully, more so to make them make sense to him, than to give Soonyoung whatever closure he seems to be looking for. “Well, I mean, sure, at first it felt weird— wrong, somehow, but I think it’s been too damn long since I’ve even kissed someone and I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. Besides, it’s just you.” 

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Soonyoung pouts. “I feel like I should at least be a little offended.” 

Seokmin laughs. “I meant that in a good way, hyung, I swear. You know I never do too well with change but once I stopped overthinking it I realised that at the end of the day it’s just you and I, how it’s been all these years anyway. So as long as we don’t let it affect the rest of the group then, what’s so bad about friends having a little fun? It’s seemed like a pretty convenient arrangement.”

Seokmin’s trying to sound casual, like even as he’s voicing his thoughts out loud, his ears aren’t ringing, and his heart isn’t going crazy inside his chest.

“Yeah,” Soonyoung nods. “Convenient.” 

Soonyoung sounds more reserved than Seokmin’s heard him speak all day, and there’s an undercurrent Seokmin can’t quite catch in his tone. Seokmin watches as Soonyoung lets his head fall back against the wooden door with a soft thud, eyes unseeingly fixed on a point on the eggshell wall in front of him. 

Seokmin starts to worry when the silence stretches on longer and Soonyoung does nothing to break it with a joke or anything at all, really. He’s reminded of the conversation they had a few days ago, how guilty Soonyoung had looked then: something twinning devastation filling his eyes when he had voiced his fears of ruining their friendship. 

“Hyung,” Seokmin calls gently. When Soonyoung doesn’t look at him, Seokmin angles his body towards Soonyoung and takes his face in his hands, guiding Soonyoung’s face so that he has no option but to look into Seokmin’s eyes. “Listen to me. I was the one who wanted to keep doing this, remember? So I need you to know that you’re not making me do anything I don't want to. 

When Soonyoung doesn’t reply Seokmin squishes his cheeks, just to elicit a reaction out of him. “Okay?” 

Soonyoung exhales, and with it he seems almost lighter. His shoulders sag in relief. Seokmin hadn’t even noticed how tense Soonyoung’s body had been the entire time. “Okay,” he accepts. 

“Great,” Seokmin says cheerily. “Now we’ve got a real problem. I think I chucked in one of Mingyu’s red underwear with the whites.” 

Soonyoung chuckles. “Maybe his new favourite colour can be pink now.” 

*****

The practice room air conditioner stops working one afternoon. They try to ignore it until heat packs itself into the room and feels tangible with how it pulses against their skin. There are other, smaller rooms they can occupy to continue the practice, but everyone welcomes this inconvenience more as a well deserved distraction. 

Seokmin and Soonyoung decide to use this time to marathon Demon Slayer on an impulse, instead of catching up on much needed sleep. They’re laying on Seokmin’s bed, pressed side by side and the laptop balanced on one Soonyoung’s thighs. 

On screen Tanjiro sets off to Fujikasane Mountain for the final selection and Seokmin turns on his side, watching Soonyoung instead of the anime. Up close he can see Soonyoung’s short lashes curling upwards and the small dimple that appears at the corner of his mouth whenever his mouth turns down in an unintentional pout. 

Seokmin stares until Soonyoung blinks, and he speaks without turning to look at him. “Stop being a creep.” 

“You have something on your face.” 

Soonyoung hits the space bar on the keyboard, pausing the episode and brings his hand to his face self consciously. “Where?”

“Here.” Seokmin points. Soonyoung jerks back when Seokmin puts his thumb and index finger together and flicks him on his cheekbone. 

Soonyoung calls him an asshole before reaching over to flick Seokmin too but Seokmin grabs his wrist, trying to deter what’s sure to be a mean flick to the forehead. Luckily the laptop doesn’t tumble to the floor when they start to grapple a bit more energetically.

In the end Soonyoung gets frustrated and pushes the laptop off himself completely, discarding it a safe distance away from them before grabbing both of Seokmin’s wrists in one hand and pinning them above his head.

Soonyoung grins down at him wickedly, snapping his wrist in the air and making a big show of relaxing his fingers. Seokmin yelps, cringing when Soonyoung brings his hand closer to Seokmin’s face and at one point, even begs him to stop.

He squeezes his eyes shut, mentally preparing for a headache inducing whack that never comes. When he opens his eyes, Soonyoung’s looking down at him with a soft smile that for reasons Seokmin doesn’t quite recognise, makes his breath stumble in his throat and his heart do a sickening tumble. 

Life hasn’t returned back to normal since their conversation because there’s a tide that shifted; but now there’s a new normal, and it comes in the form of kisses and touches they share, when only the two of them are trapped within a bubble of secrecy that shields them from everyone else.

Seokmin can’t find it within himself to complain, not when it’s this exciting and sometimes Soonyoung makes Seokmin come so hard he could cry. And once, embarrassingly, he does, teeth biting red welts into the soft skin of Soonyoung’s shoulder as Soonyoung’s hand brings him over the edge. 

And there’s a pattern to it: Soonyoung always leans in first, always takes care of Seokmin first, never asking for more than what Seokmin offers him. 

The pressure on Seokmin’s wrists lessens, but only minutely. Soonyoung leans down, entering Seokmin’s personal orbit until Seokmin feels himself go a little cross eyed from staring up at him so closely. Soonyoung’s hot breath fans over Seokmin’s cheeks and this time he lets his eyes fall shut more gently as Soonyoung dips further down to kiss him. 

When Soonyoung’s fingers eventually curl around the waistband of Seokmin’s shorts, and pauses there for a split second as though posing a question, Seokmin reaches down to grab his wrist and gently guides his hand away. Soonyoung breaks their kiss off immediately, clouded eyes searching Seokmin’s face worriedly. 

Seokmin manages to smile at him shyly, despite the way his heart is hammering away at his ribs as he says, “Let me take care of you this time, hyung.” 

Seokmin feels the gentle rumble of it vibrating through his own body when Soonyoung’s breath hitches. His eyes widen in surprise and his flushed mouth falls open a little comically and it’s so endearing that Seokmin just has to drag him down for another quick kiss before gently pushing Soonyoung back with a hand on his chest, until he tips over and lands on his back. 

“Ah, fuck,” Soonyoung curses when he hits his head on the wooden footboard slat. The loud thud makes Seokmin cringe. 

Seokmin apologises from behind his hand, stifling the giggles threatening to escape him, and not sounding sorry at all. Soonyoung knees him in the thigh for it when Seokmin clambers between his legs. 

But the reminder of what he’s about to do is sobering, and the laughter catches in his throat, quickly dying down. He’s been thinking of this moment, all the events leading up to it, but now that he’s faced with it: it being Soonyoung’s dick, the hard outline of it visible through the material of his pants and directly in his field of vision, very close to his face, his mind has gone blank. 

But sucking dick, Seokmin figures, isn’t rocket science, although it feels equally daunting at the moment. Hopefully, all the second hand experience he’s had is enough to not make it completely awful, uncoordinated and messy.

Soonyoung raises up on his elbows, takes one look at Seokmin’s perplexed expression and laughs. But the touch of his fingers on the curve of Seokmin’s cheek is gentle and kind.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Seokmin. We can just go back and finish watching the rest of the episodes, it’s okay.” 

Somehow the genuineness of the offer only makes Seokmin feel worse, and more determined to do well. Maybe he has a secret talent for this, who knows, and eating large mouthfuls of food all his life has actually paid off and done wonders to weaken his gag reflex. 

“Please stop talking. I'm trying to focus on sucking your dick.” 

Soonyoung laughs once more but the sound of it is a little more breathless than before, betraying his own nervousness hidden underneath. He helps Seokmin slide his pants and underwear halfway down his thighs and watches with gentle eyes as Seokmin presses a tentative kiss to his inner thigh, then another into the paper thin skin at the juncture of his leg. 

This is nothing like rushed pleasure in stolen moments, and in all honesty, it’s scary; it’s setting off his pulse to beat at a rapid rate and leaves his mouth dry. It’s a little stupid too, to let themselves be lulled into such false domesticity and gentleness that simply doesn’t belong in the dynamic they’re supposed to have. 

Soonyoung bites back a curse, heading falling back when Seokmin presses his lips to the underside of his cock, barely grazing the sensitive skin under the flushed head. 

*****

The hours blur and melt together to form fragments of memories in the final weeks leading to the comeback. Like a film reel that slows down, its sounds are distorted and colours start to fade around the edges, but once the clock strikes midnight on the comeback date, the reel spins out of control once again and the suspended chaos finally comes crashing down on their heads. 

Their days start at dawn, stretching on till late in the night. Pre recordings, interviews and fanmeets occupy every hour of the day, and even after all that, sometimes they end it by going back to the practice room to monitor the day’s performances and to fix any mistakes. 

The stage lights burn Seokmin’s skin and he’s sweating underneath his suit the moment they step on stage. The crowd greets them as enthusiastic as ever and their excitement is tangible. He feeds on it as all of them do, letting it fuel them through the early morning rehearsals and the performance. 

The months of gruelling hard work pales in comparison to this feeling, so Seokmin finds himself laughing along with everyone at jokes they share between the members and the audience during each take. 

When the last schedule of the week is over they drag themselves back into the safety of the dark interior of their van. But despite all the discomfort, it still feels good, this ache in his joints and the way his eyes burn. 

The whole vehicle smells like an odd mix of their perfumes mixing with the sharp smell of sweat and hairspray: a suffocating assault on the senses for sure, but after all these years it no longer bothers him. 

Everyone had functioned solely on caffeine and adrenaline for the first week but now that they’re in the tail end of the second round of promotions, the exhaustion and sleep deprivation has made everyone over sensitive, like they’re raw and exposed nerves, to the point where they don’t even converse with each other any more than they need to. 

It’s not until Soonyoung shifts closer, resting his head on Seokmin’s shoulder, that he fully allows himself to think about just how much he had missed this easy, casual intimacy. 

Seokmin shakes Soonyoung awake gently once they arrive at home. He groans into Seokmin’s shoulder in protest before blinking his eyes open, and looking disoriented. Seokmin laughs softly at the confusion on Soonyoung’s face and the soft imprint of a seam on one of his cheeks. 

Soonyoung lets himself be led inside the apartment, but groans in protest when Seokmin refuses to let him go to sleep without removing his makeup. 

“Don’t wanna. I’m too tired,” Soonyoung whines, pulling at Seokmin’s hand, with no real force behind the action. 

Seokmin takes Soonyoung by the shoulders and guides him towards the bathroom down the hall. “Nuh uh, c’mon, you’ll thank me in the morning.” 

A sleepy Soonyoung means a pliant Soonyoung: he’s clingy enough for anyone to manoeuvre in any way they want to, so when Seokmin puts down the toilet seat and gestures for Soonyoung to sit down, he complies, eyes still half closed. 

When Seokmin turns around after pulling out the bottle of make up remover and the packet of cotton balls, Soonyoung lets his legs fall to the sides, allowing Seokmin to stand in the space between them. He tilts Soonyoung’s face up with a gentle touch on his jaw and swipes the wet pad of cotton over his cheekbone, leaving behind a glistening strip of clean skin. Seokmin repeats the motion all over his face, switching out the used balls of cotton for cleaner ones. 

The lines of Soonyoung’s face catch the yellow light from the single light fixture above, highlighting the dark eyeshadow on his eyelids. It clashes with the sleep softened look in his eyes. 

Seokmin thumbs at the corner of Sooyoung's eyes, following the shadows fallen underneath with a soft touch. “Close your eyes.” 

Soonyoung flinches slightly when Seokmin presses the cold cotton pad on one of his eyelids. 

“You did good today, being the MC,” Seokmin says, before switching out the dirty ball of cotton for another. 

Soonyoung’s lips curl down in displeasure. “I missed one of my lines.” 

“Really? We could hardly tell. In any case, I think you redeemed yourself with the finger heart dance you did,” Seokmin tells him, applies more pressure to collect the thick layer of makeup. 

Soonyoung hums, sounding pleased. “I’m always cute,” he says, allowing his voice to turn sickeningly sweet, missing the mark for adorable baby talk and landing right on a creepy doll from a bad horror movie impression. 

“Don’t push it when I have my fingers near your eyeballs,” Seokmin warns, the cotton ball still poised a few inches away from Soonyoung’s face. 

“You like them too much to do anything,” Soonyoung says, fluttering them open and angling his head to look up at Seokmin.

“Sure, they’re beautiful, but that baby talk is gross, and I will not hesitate to poke you,” Seokmin warns lightly. 

Soonyoung freezes under his touch, eyes widening in surprise before dropping his gaze down to his lap and from Seokmin’s vantage point he can see how Soonyoung’s ears have gone red; it’s cute. Seokmin has a weirdly strong urge to pinch or rub the lobes of Soonyoung’s ears between his thumbs, feeling the flesh dimple like soft dough between his fingertips.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me,” Seokmin murmurs, when Soonyoung’s shoulders eventually slump and starts curving inwards slowly. 

Soonyoung makes a soft noise of displeasure in the back of his throat but he sits up straighter. His hands move up to wrap around Seokmin’s thighs, nails catching on the seams of his pants but there’s nothing sexual about it. He simply just runs them up and down the sides of Seokmin’s legs absentmindedly. 

The space inside the bathroom feels oddly liminal, untouched by the noises of tired men moving around, getting ready to end their day. Seokmin can hear Junhui and Chan’s voices just outside, arguing about something, but only barely; their voices sound far away.

The silence breaks completely when Mingyu pops his head inside to grab a face towel. Even though he only spares both of them a disinterested glance, Seokmin quickly drops his hand from Soonyoung’s face, stepping away. 

Soonyoung stands up, grabbing Seokmin’s hand to switch up their positions but Seokmin shakes his head. “I’ll take care of it. You go to bed, hyung.” 

The fact that Soonyoung doesn’t protest is testament to how tired he must be. “Join me,” he says instead, giving Seokmin’s hand a gentle squeeze. 

*****

Their tour is lined up with a whopping number of twenty-three shows, broken up into three legs: North America, Europe and concluding in Asia, back in Seoul.

The meeting with the production team goes on for what feels like hours, all the members pitching in their ideas, scribbling down and then scratching out sentences until the new assistant leaves with a sketchpad full of barely legible scrawls. 

Everyone holds their breath collectively when the ticket go on sale. Seokmin checks his phone for updates so frequently that eventually Jeonghan just grabs it and switches it off. 

Preparation for the tour feels a lot like balancing on waves that tower darkly before they fall into tumult. The arenas are getting bigger, and their performances need to keep up and therein lies the problem: to make it seem effortless, it takes a lot of fucking effort. 

In the face of all, it’s obvious that maintaining the balance between holding the entire group together and not letting the fissures fester and pull them apart is something everyone is struggling with. Seungcheol like the fucking champion he is, holds on to it all with a tight grip, singlehandedly being the peacekeeper and enforcer. 

Soonyoung dives into each practice with a focus Seokmin hadn’t seen in him since they were preparing for debut. But with the lights off, he sinks like a cloth in water, letting Seokmin feel the exhaustion bleeding out from every pore when he presses in closer. 

The first show, as per usual, starts in Seoul. The next day they’ll be on a flight, ready to kick off the North American line up, touring through the continent for the next month.

But on the final day of their Seoul Concert, it all seems so far away, in an unimaginable, distant future. The crowd pumped up crowd is a wall that stands between everything else that awaits them and the present moment. 

Nausea swirls in the pit of Seokmin’s stomach as he listens to the roar of the arena. His headset mic digs in a little uncomfortably behind his ear so he distracts himself by fiddling with it.

The countdown begins and when the curtain falls, the waves finally come crashing down and Seokmin lets it sweep him under the current. 

*****

They’re somewhere over the pacific, eight hours into their flight and one transit later, when Soonyoung slides his hands up Seokmin’s thigh.

Across the aisle, Chan has disappeared into his blanket, curled up into a ball on the pulled out seat. Jihoon catches Seokmin’s eye for the briefest of moments from next to Chan’s unmoving form, just as Soonyoung presses his thumb into the flesh of Seokmin’s inner thigh. Seokmin freezes, blood going cold in his veins. 

Soonyoung’s hand inches up a little higher until Seokmin reaches down, stopping him in his tracks, fingers tightening around Soonyoung’s wrist with enough pressure to crush bones. 

“Not here,” he grits out, trying to keep his tone even. 

Seokmin loosens his grip when Soonyoung gives him a quizzical look, one mixed in with surprise and a faint shade of hurt. He twists his arm free from Seokmin’s hand. 

“The bathroom’s big enough for two,” Soonyoung supplies. 

Seokmin cocks an eyebrow at Soonyoung. “That would be stupid and you know it.” 

Soonyoung sighs, deflating back into his seat. “I know. But you know flying makes me antsy. Just thought it wouldn’t be the worst way to pass the time.”

“Can’t deny the appeal of the mile high club, but I doubt ‘Two Male Idols Caught Hooking Up On A Plane’ is the headline anyone wants to wake up to tomorrow,” Seokmin says. “Wanna hold my hand instead?” he offers, when the downturn of Soonyoung’s lips still persist.

Soonyoung finally smiles at him, smooth lines stretching across his face, the relief evident in his eyes. “Please.” 

He’s quiet for a brief moment before he squeezes Seokmin’s fingers to recall his attention back on him. Seokmin hums in acknowledgment, shifting in his seat to face Soonyoung. 

“I’ve thought of a better headline,” Soonyoung stage whispers conspiratorially from behind his hand. “Gays on a plane. Get it? Like the movie,” he says, eyes glittering with absolute mirth and not looking even an ounce ashamed at the poorly executed pun. 

The slap on the wrist he gives Soonyoung in return is well deserved, Seokmin thinks, but because he’s still a nice guy and he’s too endeared by Soonyoung antics at this point to truly be offended, he lets Soonyoung keep holding onto his hand. 

*****

Day one of the New York showcase finally arrives and brings with it horrendous weather: a washed out sky with all colour bleeding out of it, and heavy clouds that threaten to wring out rain at any moment. 

It puts a damper on Seokmin’s mood, but soundcheck and rehearsal leaves little room to dwell on it. But he’s not completely successful in warding off his doubts as to whether anyone is going to turn up for the show at all. 

Soonyoung laughs, but not unkindly, when Seokmin voices his fear, and reminds Seokmin that the show is already sold out; Carats will always be there, and now is not the time to get distracted by anything more than their performance.

His words are soft spoken, but they’re coated in reassurance, which brings reality into perspective, which is that he owes it to everyone: the rest of the members, the crew and the fans to do his best. Soonyoung’s light touch at the base of his spine, feeling his warmth through the material of his hoodie is an added comfort Seokmin clings to. 

*****

Sometimes Seokmin can’t help but wonder if they’re even doing this whole friends with benefits thing right.

Sure, a lot of things have changed, but life is also exactly as he has ever known it to be; Soonyoung holds his hand as delicately as ever, and falling asleep with Soonyoung’s head nestled on his shoulder, to the warmth of an overheated laptop screen feels like second nature.

But feeling the imprint of Soonyoung’s gaze on the back of his eyelids every time he closes his eyes is a new development, and Seokmin can never quite place his finger on the title of its existence.

The fact that sometimes Soonyoung presses him up against a door and kisses him until he’s breathless or the fact that Seokmin knows what Soonyoung tastes like: after their performances, the smooth skin of his neck like salt on the tip of his tongue or the sweet taste of each knob of his spine, still cold and damp from a shower, are all things that take up a disproportionate amount of space in Seokmin’s mind even though he knows he’s supposed to be treating them as insignificant. 

However, to put into words what Seokmin and Soonyoung are, is to make it real enough to have real consequences on not just the two of them but their entire group. There’s power in naming a thing: an inevitable destruction that comes along with coining a phrase to describe something, but even so, it still feels ridiculously easy sometimes, tempting even, to do exactly that. 

But at the end of the day it doesn’t really matter. He’s not in love with Soonyoung. 

But he loves him; there’s a difference. 

Seokmin has loved Soonyoung since he was barely seventeen, and the thought of his upcoming vocal evaluation had scared him shitless so Soonyoung had sat with him in the closet down the hall from the old practice room, holding his hand until Seokmin calmed down. 

So for now, maybe that’s enough.

*****

If being on stage is a knock-the-breath-out-of-your-chest kind of euphoria, then the ride back to the hotel always feels like a lie, tricking the body into still feeling as though you’re stepping two feet above the ground. And the moment of closing the hotel room door is when reality comes crashing down. 

Or as Joshua likes to say: each concert is like being high without the drugs and every other moment in between is like one bitch of a hangover, where only fragmented memories remain. Whatever analogy he may choose to explain it, it all boils down to the fact that living on two extreme ends of a spectrum takes a toll on them whenever they go on tour. 

That’s only half true for Seokmin right now because Soonyoung is writhing under him, the soft skin of his abdomen dewy with sweat and glistening when he arches up into Seokmin’s touch; his nerves are still singing with anticipation and pleasure, keeping the day’s exhaustion at bay. 

Soonyoung’s face is always a myriad of emotions, so open, honest and mesmerising when they do this. But he’s quiet too, in a way that had been unsettling for Seokmin at first: the way he muffles his moans into the crook of his elbow or only lets out soft mewls and groans, intense but always choked off. 

All he’s ever known is larger and louder than life Soonyoung. Even when there were no cameras around he had always let his presence be known; he never demanded attention but commanded it just the same. So it had taken Seokmin off guard the first time Soonyoung had bitten down on his own hand to muffle a moan when Seokmin slid his mouth down the length of Soonyoung, until the head of his cock hit the back of Seokmin’s throat, and his nose was touching the coarse curls at the base of it.

The dichotomy of Soonyoung is still something Seokmin’s fascinated by, but he’s more used to it now. So, he listens intently when he takes Soonyoung back into his hand and slicks him up with the dollop of lube he’d squirted on to his palm.

It always feels weird at first, how the cold gel feels between the crooks of his fingers and how it makes Soonyoung’s skin feel on the palm of his hand. But then Soonyoung is gasping a little louder, thickening in Seokmin’s tight fist, hips jumping when he presses his thumb into the slit so Seokmin gets to work. 

Soonyoung always opens up so easily, back at home when they had the privacy and time but now Seokmin goes slow, coaxing him to relax and to stretch him out slowly and carefully. 

When he slides into the heat between Soonyoung’s legs and bottoms out, Soonyoung arches back, strung tight like a bow. When Seokmin moves, deep and slow at first, Soonyoung keens high in his throat. When their pace picks up, bordering on feverish, Soonyoung’s nails scrabble at the headboard above him, and he locks his ankles around Seokmin’s waste.

Seokmin knows Soonyoung’s close when he whispers hotly into Seokmin’s ear, disjointed sentences, barely making any sense but sounding like a fucking dream.

“Shit, Seokmin–” Soonyoung gasps, when Seokmin drives in and nails his prostate over and over again. 

“You feel so good, hyung,” Seokmin pants, canting forward to his forehead on Soonyoung’s sternum even as his thrusts continue. 

Soonyoung holds the back of Seokmin’s neck, fingers tangling his fingers in his hair, holding on but not tugging at it. “You make me feel so good,” Soonyoung keeps whispering, voice hoarse with desperation now. “I’m going to lose my fucking mind. Fuck, you’re doing so good, baby.” 

Seokmin stills, faltering at the term of endearment. Somehow the casual term they used to joke around with, falling off of Soonyoung’s lips, drenched in pleasure and want makes Seokmin’s heart accelerate even more and his head swim. 

“Holy shit, did you just get bigger?” Soonyoung wonders aloud, pulling away to look at Seokmin’s face.

Seokmin flushes, the heat spreading over his chest and creeping up to his face so he tries to hide his face in the burning crook of Soonyoung’s neck. 

“You like that? Like being called my baby?” Soonyoung guides his face up gently, hands cold on Seokmin overheated cheeks and laughs, “That’s fucking hot.

“Shut up,” Seokmin mumbles, embarrassed but then on an impulse turns his head to chase Soonyoung’s palm and place a soft kiss in the middle of it. 

Soonyoung watches him with wide eyes and to Seokmin’s surprise it’s Soonyoung who blushes now, gaze flustered and his lips parted. So Seokmin keeps doing it, kissing the middle of his palm and trailing his lips lower, gently brushing them against his pulse and nosing at the paper thin skin. Soonyoung’s breath catches in his throat and he clamps down on Seokmin, making his hips jump forward involuntarily so Seokmin rides that momentum, keeping his thrusts drawn.

Soonyoung makes a broken noise in the back of his throat and grabs Seokmin’s face and peppers kisses on both his cheeks, mouth falling open in short pleasured gasps and moans. “You’re fucking precious, God, I love you!”

Those three words, they suck the air out of the room so fast, and for a moment it feels like they hold a collective breath. Soonyoung’s legs tighten around Seokmin once more, holding him in place, maybe sensing that Seokmin is going to run again, like that first time in the bathroom.

And then the moment passes and Seokmin chases his relief with a newfound desperation and maybe it’s partly because he can’t bear to watch how Soonyoung is looking at him now: the mix of lust and tenderness masking the fear in his eyes and also because if he draws this out any longer, letting the pleasure drown him out, he’s going to say something he’ll regret, set into motion something he can’t undo. 

*****

Soonyoung doesn’t talk about it, crack a joke, or acknowledge it in any way and it makes Seokmin wonder if it had happened at all. And Seokmin doesn’t corner Soonyoung the way he so desperately wants to and demand to know what the fuck that was, because ever since that night those three words have been creeping in his brain, fogging up his thoughts every time he’s left alone. 

In hindsight, there are bigger things he should be worried about: real problems like how Joshua is currently three concerts into performing with a bad ankle or the fact that as more and more tour stops get ticked off the list, Seokmin’s voice wanes without any proper rest for his overused vocal cords. 

But in between everything else, running through his mind like an undercurrent is the fact that sometimes he catches Soonyoung looking at him with such gentleness around the edges of his eyes that Seokmin forgets how to breathe. But it’s just how Soonyoung had always looked at him, kind, soft and tender beyond anything else, because that’s just how Soonyoung is: bursting at the seams to give, give and give some more. But unknowingly at some point in time, between that one night in Jeju until now, the meaning Seokmin attributes to his gaze has changed. 

If denial had been a slow acting poison, then accepting his feelings is like dripping magma into cold water: molten fire solidifying into a heavy rock which settles at his core with a loud hiss.

No matter how hard Seokmin tries, he can’t pinpoint a moment where his breath had been knocked out of his chest, bowled over by an epiphany or a moment of ‘Ah! this is it, this is love.’ So it doesn’t feel like a newfound realisation; perhaps he had always harboured these feelings where they had festered in the deepest parts of his heart unbeknownst to him. 

Or maybe it’s because Soonyoung is a whirlwind too fast to chase, always leaving Seokmin in a state of breathlessness from trying to keep up with him anyway. 

******

In their early years the thought of being with so many members had seemed near impossible to Seokmin.

Not when they barely knew who they were much less each other, and the only way they knew how to express their emotions was by throwing themselves at each other like they fully intended to tear, push and shove at whoever stood in the way of getting what they wanted. 

Looking back on it now, Seokmin’s surprised they had made it out as well as they did: with minimal collateral damage, because throwing in more than a dozen teenage boys into small confined spaces, day in and day out was a sure fire recipe for a ticking, toxic, hormonal time bomb just waiting to go off.

But eventually the lit fuse had died down, and at some point Seokmin had started to think of it as ‘them against the world,’ and his dream of debuting was no longer just his, but a collective and desperate wish of twelve others. 

Now he can’t envision a future without the rest of his members, and while it’s comforting to live in the here and now, there’s still a paralysing fear that seeps into him when he thinks of the years to come. 

So this thing with Soonyoung, if he acts on it, it’ll be like dropping a pebble into calm, still water, making it ripple and spread, distorting a perfect glassy image. No matter how many times Seokmin throws every traitorous feeling he has into the equation to try and make it work, it just doesn’t make sense and he can’t envision a reality where everyone gets a happy ending. 

*****

“Why haven’t we been on a date yet?”

Seokmin rolls over onto his side, tracing sharp lines of Soonyoung’s side profile, backlit by the soft amorphous glow of the bedside lamp behind him before he speaks. “Because we’re not dating.” 

“Technicalities,” Soonyoung tells him in a dismissive voice, eyes still trained on the ceiling. “We don’t need to be dating to go on a date.” 

“Oh, so words just don’t have any meaning anymore?” Seokmin scoffs. “The whole point of a date is that the two people are dating.” 

“Or it’s just two people enjoying a really nice meal together, a movie, a picnic or maybe a nice long drive — whatever it is people do these days on dates,” Soonyoung supplies. “It’s been too long since I’ve been on one so I need to get caught up on whatever it is these non-singles are doing, but I just feel like we’re doing this all wrong. Like, I’ve sucked your dick, but you haven’t even taken me to a candle lit dinner yet.” 

Seokmin tries very hard not to roll his eyes. “If this is some elaborate way of asking me to pay you back for yesterday’s meal, just say so, hyung.” 

Soonyoung laughs, shoulders shaking with the force of it and rolls over to face Seokmin. “No, this is me not so subtly asking you out on a date.” 

It’s a little cruel for Soonyoung to voice it out so casually, like dangling a carrot on a stick when neither of them can ever truly have it; reminding him how Soonyoung’s kisses will always taste like something borrowed, and by being there to catch the soft fall of his lips, Seokmin is trying to lay claim to something that can never truly be his. 

Seokmin has an urge to reach out and press a finger to Soonyoung’s bottom lip and watch the way the skin goes bloodless under his touch, but he restrains himself. 

“We can’t,” Seokmin whispers.”

“Sure, not now, but maybe when we go back home,” Soonyoung says. 

“You know that’s not what I meant.” It’s hard to keep frustration from bleeding into his voice. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” Seokmin snaps, on edge when all Soonyoung does is smile softly and continue to watch him, eyes roaming lazily over his face. 

Soonyoung widens his eyes at the sudden shift in tone. “Like what?”

Seokmin huffs, irritated that Soonyoung’s making him spell it out for him. “Like that, like you’re about to confess your undying love for me or something.” 

Soonyoung bites his bottom lip, looking uncertain for the first time that night. “Would it be so bad though, if i was in love with you?” he says words softly, a little louder than a whisper, but quiet enough to be nothing but the truth. 

The air conditioning inside the room is bone dry, and Seokmin’s throat is burning. He turns over, watching the winking skyline through the parted curtains. “That’s not funny,” he mutters. 

“I wasn’t trying to be.” Soonyoung catches him by surprise when he roughly yanks Seokmin to face him once again. “Look at me. Do I look like I’m joking?” 

They’re close enough for Seokmin to count the sparingly dusted pattern of pale freckles over the bridge of Soonyoung’s nose and the curl of his bottom eyelashes; close enough to feel pinned down by the intensity in Soonyoung’s gaze. 

“It’s pointless to keep talking about things that are never going to amount to anything,” Seokmin says, taking in a shuddering breath, trying to calm his heart. 

Soonyoung recoils slightly, looking hurt but presses on. “Why, don’t you… feel the same, at least a little bit?”

And Seokmin wants so badly to tell him: yes, yes, yes! He feels the same and more. He feels so much sometimes it feels like he’s going to tear at the seams, but he doesn’t. After a beat has passed and when Seokmin still doesn’t answer him, Soonyoung lets out a weak laugh and nods in acceptance. 

When Seokmin wakes up disoriented, sometime in the middle of the night, Soonyoung’s gone. Seokmin swallows thickly, feeling a thick knot of anxiety forming in his belly. 

Soonyoung doesn’t mention it afterwards, or push Seokmin for an answer. He does exactly the opposite and somehow it’s worse. It feels fucking awful, the way Soonyoung has gotten quieter around him. 

Seokmin can see that he’s trying not to be so obvious about it, and Seokmin tiptoes around him too, keeping to the edges of a room whenever all of them gather. A few members look curious when they notice that Soonyoung has stopped eating dinner in Seokmin’s room but doesn’t press it. 

A few days later the tension peaks and boils over when Seokmin keeps playing around with Minghao and Junhui during a sound rehearsal and Soonyoung snaps only at him to ‘fucking quit it unless he wants to ruin their show later.’ 

And Seokmin wants to bite back, call Soonyoung out on being a big fucking drama queen and blowing things out of proportion but Minghao grabs his foreharm tightly when he sees Seokmin gearing up for an argument so Seokmin lets it go, and fumes quietly for the rest of the evening. 

*****

It’s Junhui that finds him backstage, sitting on the step of a closed off stairwell in a remote part of the venue, with a half finished packet of dried seaweed in his hand. 

“Nice find,” he comments, settling down on the step below Seokmin and looking around. “The atmosphere is great. The dark hallway really keeps you on your toes, like, is it haunted or did the janitor forgot to change that lightbulb? Guess we’ll find out. 

Seokmin hadn’t even noticed how dark the place is, which is saying something. He silently offers Junhui the snacks. 

“So… Soonyoung,” Junhui starts. 

Seokmin tenses. “What about him?”

“That’s the reason you’re out here brooding and being dramatic isn’t it?” 

Seokmin scowls. “I’m not brooding. 

“So it is about Soonyoung,” Junhui says, sounding so smug about it, Seokmin grabs the snacks out of his hand, deciding he definitely doesn’t deserve it. “And it’s not just about what happened earlier too. You two have been acting weird for a while now.” 

Seokmin holds his breath, cursing Junhui for always being so goddamn perceptive. For someone who’s hooked on his phone most of the time, he sure seemed to know what’s going on with every single one of them. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Seokmin lies, trying to be dismissive but obviously failing with how Junhui turns around to cock a perfectly arched eyebrow at him .

“So you two definitely weren’t hooking up for the past six months then?” Junhui asks.. 

“Yeah– what? No!” Seokmin splutters. “Who told you that?” 

“You just did,” Junhui says. “All I had was an educated guess. Let’s be real, you and Soonyoung aren’t the most subtle people around.” 

That’s fair, and while Seokmin’s not particularly worried that the “secret” would incite negative reactions from the team, it’s just that he would’ve preferred to tell them on his own terms. 

“It was just a few hookups,” Seokmin assures him and adds, “You know what it’s like, hyung, not being able to go out for a while, comeback pressure and all that.” 

Junhui stops rustling inside the foil packet, searching for a decent bite sized piece, looking surprised for the first time that evening. After munching on his discovery, Junhui says, “Oh, we all thought the whole getaway to Jeju was an extended date slash romantic vacation.” 

“God, no! We weren’t even– nothing happened for a long time after that, trust me.” Seokmin pauses. “Wait, what do you mean by everyone? Why did you think it was a date?”

Junhui shrugs. “Well, I mean both of you have only been following each other around like two lovesick puppies for _years_ , so we figured you two grew a collective pair and decided to do something about it.” 

“I wasn’t in love with him,” Seokmin blurts out. 

Junhui bites into one of the more crunchier pieces. “So… you are now?” 

That stops Seokmin’s train of through in its tracks. “What would you say if the answer is yes,” Seokmin asks, keeping his voice small, trying to keep his anxiety at bay. 

Junhui gets to his feet, crumpling up the empty packet in his hand and takes his time brushing off invisible crumbs off his pants. “Then I’d congratulate you, and tell you that Jieun noona is looking for you because you’re late and she needs to pick out the accessories you want to wear tonight ASAP.” 

*****

Soonyoung looks surprised when he throws his door open, but then his face hardens back into a mask that betrays nothing. His eyes still dart around the hallway, and it brings a sense of deja vú, waiting to be let inside by Soonyoung. 

”You were right,” Seokmin says, rounding on Soonyoung as soon as he hears the door click shut behind them. “We’ve been doing this all wrong.”

Soonyoung stands frozen at Seokmin’s outburst, still half hidden in the shadows of the small corridor that leads to the middle of the room. 

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I do want the picnics, the movie dates, the night drives,” Seokmin tells Soonyoung. “And I want them with you, even though that’s stupid, and dangerous and I’m sure there’s at least a few hundred overused jokes about not dating your co-workers, but guess what? I don’t care.”

“This isn’t funny,” Soonyoung says, throwing Seokmin’s own words at him. 

“Does it look like I’m joking?” Seokmin asks, drawing closer. 

“If you are, then you’re being cruel,” Soonyoung says, words catching in his throat. 

Soonyoung’s hand twitches when Seokmin takes it. “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life, ever.” 

Soonyoung goes still when Seokmin leans in to press a chaste kiss on his mouth. He peppers gentle kisses on Soonyoung’s cheek, the corners of his mouth and the edge of his jaw until Soonyoung makes a broken noise at the back of his throat and holds Soonyoung’s face in his hands and kisses him on the mouth, hard. 

He kisses Seokmin like he’s been starved, even though it’s been only a few days, but Seokmin understands because it feels like he’s been starving too, each hour that passed like a punishment for not being completely honest with himself, with Soonyoung and about what they really are. 

Later when Seokmin makes himself comfortable lying down on Soonyoung’s shoulder, tracing a finger over a random letter on his graphic t-shirt, Soonyoung says, “My seventeen year old self would be crying right now.” 

Seokmin lifts up his head to look at Soonyoung. “Not the whirlwind love romance you were expecting, huh? Was this too anticlimactic for you?” 

“You could have gone bigger, maybe a huge dance number or something involving a boombox but whatever,” Soonyoung says.

Seokmin pouts. “I guess good old love confessions just don’t cut it anymore, huh?”

“Pretty much!”

After a slight pause Soonyoung speaks, sounding a little nervous, “So, full disclosure, don’t be weirded out by this or anything but I may or may not have had a small crush on you since the first time I saw you,” Soonyoung says, not meeting Seokmin’s gaze, his cheeks filling out with that soft peach colour once more.

Well, that’s news to Seokmin. He rakes his memories to find any moment that sticks out to him, any flirtatious gesture he might’ve missed although that’s redundant because Soonyoung will flirt with anything that has a pulse. Maybe it’s because all thirteen of their lives were so interwoven with each other, stuck together with love and too much shared experience and existence that sometimes it’s hard to separate the platonic from the non-platonic. But this feels like a start.

“It sounds stupid when I say it out loud,” Soonyoung groans, hiding his face behind his hands. 

“No it doesn’t,” Seokmin insists. He pries away Soonyoung’s hand, intertwining their fingers. “That’s a long time, hyung, why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I didn’t know what it was at first, and even after I figured it out there was never a right time.” 

”So why now?”

“For one thing, the past six months have been... crazy. It’s been a lot, but I realised that I don’t want things to go back to the way they were. I‘ve tried to forget it because, bad fucking idea right? I _know_ that I can never just be Soonyoung, and you will never be just Seokmin, and nothing’s ever going to be simple. I can’t give you those movie rom-com moments which I know you love to watch when you’re alone by the way, and before you say anything, yes, I did accidentally see your browser history, which was a little concerning for me but that’s a conversation for another time.” Soonyoung sounds winded at the end of his rant. “So yeah, surprise, I’ve been in love with you for almost a decade,” he adds weakly.

Seokmin hums, considering it. “I guess I’ll just have to love you back twice as hard for the next decade for us to be even.”

It’s one of the rare moments when Soonyoung is left truly speechless. His eyes look a little cloudy, and honestly, Seokmin’s expecting it when his own eyes start stinging. But Soonyoung smiles against Seokmin’s mouth when he pulls Soonyoung in for a bruising kiss, sighing into their embrace when Soonyoung wraps an arm around him, holding him even closer.

**Author's Note:**

> This became a bit of a mess towards the end because my college decided to flip our exam time table on it’s head so i was torn between writing this and studying for my finals. If you stuck around until now I love you. Thank you for reading!
> 
> [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.qa/2ndstartotheryt)
> 
> [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/2ndstartotheryt)


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